Sam's brother
by KilianaFelagund
Summary: Dean and Jess weren't strangers when he showed up one night asking for Sam's help. A mystery, a sick Sam, a sick Sam's phone, and a simple call. Jess and Dean met and Sam never knew. Jess only had sisters growing up, now she had a big brother too. Pre-Season 1. Stanford era. Rated for language (Hey, it's the Winchesters) The rest of the tags and disclaimers are inside. No slash.
1. Epiloque

Hey, so this is my latest. Yes it will continue. Please follow if you like it. Tag for Language, because hey its the Winchesters. Tag for Alcohol use. Tag for blood (see above reference of the Winchesters... :)

I do not own the Supernatural U'verse or the characters (sadly)

So I have had this story percolating in my brain for a while now... :) enjoy!

~Kiliana

* * *

><p>Epilogue:<p>

The first time Jess heard his name, Sam was drunk. Actually legitimately drunk. She had known him for three months and things certainly looked serious. Lola threw a party in their flat and invited basically every geek on campus and Sam had been dragged along by his roommate. At some point that evening, someone had finally talked him into a game of beer-pong. By the time everyone had passed out all over the place – or gone home which applied to over seventy-five percent of the party because they were all nerds who for some reason valued good grades – Sam was still hanging on to consciousness and trying to talk Lola into letting him leave.

"I'm – um… I'ya m'fine…" he slurred _oh so _convincingly as he swayed on his feet.

"Like hell you are." Lola laughed pushing him down on the couch. "Sleep bean-stock, you can go home in the morning."

"Didin mean t'get – ham-mm-mmered." He apologized. "Never – ever – not me – I'm da sober un." His eyes were fluttering.

"Do ya supposed he ever has gotten drunk before?" Lola nudged Jess where she stood hazily in the doorway.

"Yaaa… I think he has. He was pretty impressive at the whole beer-pong game." Jess was new to the whole psychology degree but she already fancied she could read people – fancied, especially when she was buzzed. "Though, he is a bit of a light-weight." She giggled at herself, perhaps she was more buzzed then she thought.

She pushed away from the door and swiped a blanket to drop over his lanky body. "Hey, you're pretty cute, even when you're drunk, Sammy." She laughed.

His eyes cleared slightly and he heaved himself back up to glare at her. "Isss Sam. Jus' Sam. Sammmm... ...No one ge's ta call me – mmmm, da call me Sammy but Dean kay? Isss Saaaam." he slurred still glaring weakly at her and then he passed out.

Jess shrugged it off and moved on, sure she didn't call him Sammy again, but she didn't quite realize just how important the name "Dean" was going to become to her. It didn't take her long to start to hate it. It took even longer before she realized she didn't have too."

* * *

><p>So, what do you think? I don't have a beta, so its all my personal mistakes.<p>

I was going to wait and post this later, but my faithful friend is threatening to "sue" me if I wait any longer to post another story. So here it is.

Please leave your thoughts. Review, review, review! It keeps the muse happy.

~Kiliana


	2. Who is Dean?

See epiloque for disclaimers and tags. SPN is not mine I regret to inform you (I know I just heart my heart break...)

I decided to post the first chapter (so you could have more to review on... :) please...)

~Kiliana

* * *

><p>Chapter 1.<p>

Sam paused just outside his apartment door and glanced around again. It had been almost two years since he had left the war that had shadowed his childhood, but old habits die hard and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. For the thousandth time that evening he wished for the solid presence of a gun against his back. The desire almost scared him with it ferocity after three years of peace. But the feeling of eyes on the back of his head – he wasn't paranoid – he knew things, things that hid in the dark, creatures of nightmares.

Dean. Dean would know what to do if he was here. He wouldn't just keep walking and pretending he wasn't alarmed by the feeling – of course he wouldn't because he's Dean and he is never alarmed of anything – not even the creepy lady who washes laundry on Saturday night crap TV. That was a horror Sam would never forget. Seriously, how was a six-year-old supposed to react when a sixty something woman started washing clothes to a horrible song – his horror had absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that she slowly transformed into a clown as she was scrubbing away. He had never figured out what that commercial was advertising (neither had Dean…) Rather, Dean had rolled off the bed laughing, and Sam had fled to the bathtub, with a pillow and hadn't emerged the rest of the night.

Sam felt a smile tug at his mouth at that memory before snapping back to reality. He roughly shoved the thoughts of his estranged brother out of his head. He couldn't go there, if he did, he would go back. He couldn't allow himself to do that, not now – not ever.

The feeling of being watched only intensified as he slipped into the apartment. If he salted the border of the apartment that night, Jess didn't comment. If her hand felt the hard cold weapon crammed in the waistband of his jeans when she kissed him while baking, she didn't say. Sam was as skittish as a wild colt at times and she had learned early on that it would pass if she ignored it. Something about that fearsome weapon kept him calm. Her heart ached for his childhood she did not understand – something had ingrained the need for a loaded weapon, and she hated it.

There was a darkness in his eyes that night. It was the forlorn anguish, the deep cold longing, one that Jess had quickly learned to associate with the name "Dean." Who Dean was; she still hadn't the faintest clue – it wasn't like he was anyone special – after all Sam _only_ cried for him when he was sick – _only_ begged for forgiveness when he tossed at night tear sliding down his face.

Sometimes, when he thought she wasn't listening, she had heard him talking softly to the empty room. There was once that she had caught him petting a stray cat, she had surprised him.

_"I didn't know you liked cats, baby." "I don't really, Dean does." It was murmured softly into the cat's fur. "He liked to pretend he was tough, but he would always hide out with the mangly stay cat when he thought no one was watching. That damn thing loved him. It looked just like this one, we called it Raggedy Anne." _

She had asked then, when, who, where? But not another word had passed his lips for the rest of the evening. And then, just like now, there was that deep dark pain in his eyes threatening to bring him to his knees. But she had referred to the apartment complex's grey and orange stray as 'Raggedy Andy' from then on, it always brought a small smile to his lips.

"Hey Baby." She murmured wrapping her arms around his waist and tipping his head down to hers. "You wanna get take out or should we order pizza? I haven't made it to the store so we have nothing in the house."

Sam's eyes jumped rapidly to the salt lines around the door and back before he quickly shook his head. "Naw." He muttered and kissed her forehead. "I'm not hungry, let's just call it a night."

"Awe, I know you wanna eat cookies for dinner babe, but really." She teased. Sam cracked a smile at her words and kissed her lips.

"Mmmm, you taste like chocolate chips." He whispered. "But, no one is going out tonight."

Between those words and the gun in his jeans, Jess knew better then to argue. It was pointless. There was a cold hard edge to his voice that made her uneasy – he wasn't changing his mind.

The next afternoon, Jess had been shopping all day and her arms were about to tear off from the weight of the bag she was lugging up the stairs to their apartment. After a bit of juggling she managed to get the door open before dropping the bag in a heap on the floor no longer caring if anything broke. Her damn arm was about to break, who cares about a glass jar.

"Sam?"

There was no response.

"Hey babe?" then she saw the salt and quietly shut the door. A quick search of the living room revealed no Sam. She nudged the door to the bedroom open and her hand drifted to her mouth as she watched him. Lying on the bed, he was loosely clutching a gun in one hand. He was wearing a tattered Def Leppard t-shirt that she had only seen in conjunction with the haunted "Dean" eyes. He stared at her through half lidded eyes.

"Hey." He breathed.

"You ok?" she asked suddenly hurrying across the room and running her hands across his forehead.

"Ya." He laughed in the same monotone. "Can't shake the feeling that something is dreadfully wrong." He rolled his head away. "I have this terrible feeling that he might be dead somewhere or hurt and I would never know. Oh GOD Jess, I miss his," his voice which had started soft had risen to a sob and he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Her heart leap into her throat as once again as unreasonable jealously swept through her. Almost as soon as it came she forced it away for Sam's sake and sank down beside him. Tears prickled at her own eyes as she watched a few slide free from his.

"Who?" She asked softly and soothingly as if she was talking to a skittish colt – which she felt like she probably actually was. She had a feeling she knew the answer to her question as he confirmed it with words.

"Dean." The soft words were almost too quiet to hear.

Jess felt her heart sink out of her throat and into the pit of her stomach, growing cold. "Who is Dean, Baby?" she asked, not for the first time ever. He had always brushed her off without answering in the past, but this time…

Sam rolled away from her, the gun in his hands shook slightly. "Dean's Dean."

"What?" she asked following him as he rolled away. "What does that mean?"

"I pushed him away. I walked out. I threw away the only thing that mattered and now, now – Oh God, Jess, what if he is hurt somewhere, I'd never know." Sam fell silent again only the hitching breaths betrayed his sorrow. Jess sat in dumb shock unable to say a word for fully five minutes. _What am I if Dean is the only thing that matters to him? What am I to him? _

Finally Jess stood up and left the room caving to jealousy on the living room couch. For a while she sat a shook in anger. What did it mean? Did he love her at all?

It didn't take long, though, before her take charge personality bullied its way back to the surface. well, bull-dog personality mixed with insatiable curiosity. In a move she had never tried before, Jess swept Sam's phone off the counter and thumbed the familiar lock pattern. Sam hadn't ever told her what it was, but he had never hidden it either.

A quick survey of the messages revealed no one named Dean. She scrolled all the way to the bottom of the contacts before she found one named "zzzz Dean." She almost smiled at that. The childishness of adding the "z's" so it would be at the very bottom was strangely endearing. She only hesitated for half of eternity before hitting the call button. Her breath caught in her throat as it rang:

Once.

Twice.

Three times and "Beep: Hey this is Dean." Drawled a breathtakingly smooth voice. "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want. Beep." Jess's breath caught in her throat and her mouth went dry. _What the Hell was she doing? _"Um…" she started helplessly. "I have no idea who you are, I'm Jess." _Smooth Jess real smooth. Try a bit harder to sound like a jerk. _"I'm Sam's girlfriend and I am at the end of my wits. Something is wrong with him and all he is talking about is someone called Dean, so I called the only Dean in his contacts. Yeah, stupid right." _Good grief Jess, you sound like a moron. _"I was sorta hoping you could help. Um. Bye." She thumbed the end call and flung the phone onto the couch. "Jess, you sounded like a total idiot… 'I have no idea who you are.' That was a brilliant one liner!" she scoffed at the room before she was suddenly cut off by the generic ring of her own phone.

She retrieved it numbly as all of her nerves rushed back full force. Her hands were shaking so bad she almost couldn't answer the phone. "Hello?" she voice wavered terribly when she answered.

"Hi, Jess. I'm Dean. How's my baby brother doing?"

"Baby brother?" she repeated, blinked, and stared dumbly at the wall. The silence on the other end was weirding her out.

"Never talks about me, does he." If she wasn't so attuned to Sam's voice when he was trying to hide his disappointment, she might have missed the ache in this stranger's voice.

"Oh no, he talks about you all the time, he just never told me who you were." She swiftly replied recovering her wits. "So, he isn't doing very well."

"Define "well," or in this case "not so well."

"Seriously, how does anyone talk to you without getting distracted?" she muttered trying to get used to his easy commanding drawl that put her at ease so fast it was almost unbelievable.

"Oh sweetheart, I really don't know. Do you still have Sam's phone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Do you know how to erase the last call from the history?"

"You mean, erase the fact that I called you?" Jess clarified, it was a strange request, but given the nature of his and Sam's relationship – or lack thereof – she was willing to do as he was asking. "Done."

"Thanks, now answer my first question; define "not doing well."

"Kay," Jess ran a hand through her hair quickly and plunged in. "He sometimes comes home in a dark mood, pours salt all over the place, and wears a gun. But he is always better the next morning. But this started yesterday afternoon, when he came back and ran the salt line, and it is evening, and he is still curled up with a gun. The salt lines are still everywhere despite my having swept them up this morning, and he is desperate, muttering about how "Dean, could be hurt somewhere" and he would never know."

There was a long pause on the other end while Jess slowly chewed her bottom lip to shreds.

"Damn it." He finally muttered. "Is he running a fever?"

"Yes but not bad."

"How bad is not bad?"

"I didn't use a thermometer but it feels like maybe a hundred." She replied suddenly nervous. This was Sam's brother, she really wanted to make a good impression. He was undoubtedly judging her. Up until now she probably had given him the impression of a nervous child. She gnawed on her lip a little longer.

"Take pity on your lip, sweetheart." His voice drawled. Her jaw went slack and she almost dropped the phone.

"How did you-"

"Sam sounds stressed." He effortlessly deflected her obvious question. "He used to panic when he was stressed. I would bet he hasn't been eating. Make him a dish of that horrible box mac and cheese. He will swear up and down that he hates that stuff, but he actually likes it and its fast energy. Make sure he eats dinner too, force feed him if you have to. And, Jess, don't sweep up the salt until he is out of this slump. It makes him feel safe, so leave it. Same with the gun. Leave it until he puts it away. You are not in any danger, not unless he is raving mad and delirious, which he isn't. Save my number to your phone. Don't you _ever_ call me on his again." Jess frowned, she hadn't missed the slight waver in his voice when he said that.

"Thanks Dean, I was worried he was really sick, his dark moods never last this long, and they are still scary and completely foreign to me."

"Huh, whatever. Call me if you need help." Dean tacked on distractedly and the line went dead.

Strange. _Don't ever call me on his again. He thought it was his brother calling him, and to know it was not, that's hard. Only Sam gets to call me from Sam's phone. He night be hurt and I'd never know. I miss him. Damn it. How's my baby brother. Baby brother. Brother, brothers. _Jess's mind was fluttering as it tried to process new information. _They miss each other but are too stubborn to admit it? Maybe they hurt each other and don't think the other will forgive them. Maybe something happened. My baby brother. Oh God, Jess, I miss him._

Save new contact? – Yes – name: Mac Roni

Jess giggled madly as she hit save. Mac Roni, for the suggested food. Sam would never suspect who that was.

Still in high spirits and thoroughly confused by the new found existence of the brother, Jess slipped out to swing by the neighborhood market and grab a stash of easy box mac.

It all went into the cupboard except one box which went into a pot. It looked really gross to her "nutrition classes" side. But when she sat down beside the lethargic boyfriend he eyed her suspiciously.

"Jess, what the hell? This is gross. You never buy instant anything." He whined halfheartedly.

"Well, it was on sale, and I figured it makes a good snack. You haven't eaten anything all day so I made some, but if you don't want it I'll throw it out." She replied standing up and moving towards the door.

"Wait, I am kinda hungry, I'll give it a try." Sam called out weakly sitting up and dropping the gun on the comforter. He took a bite and grimaced slightly although she could clearly see the smile threatening ruin the act.

"You like nasty food you bad boy." She laughed. Sam huffed but finished the bowl.

"It's funny that you happened to buy this stuff. This is like the last thing I would ever have thought you would buy. Seems more like something my br- um, I mean, it seems like it would be way too unhealthy." He ended lamely sticking his nose in the bowl like he might possibly be able to breathe the food in instead of eating it.

"Ya, well sue me lawyer-to-be. I was out of quick meal ideas and, thinking about the trip the girls want to take, and the fact that you don't cook, I thought I would give it a try before you starve yourselves for three days next month." Jess almost doubled over laughing she was so proud of herself, she was a lot better at the "make-up-excuses-on-the-fly" game then she thought.

Sam looked back up and smiled slightly. "Thanks." He muttered and rolled out of bed. The gun took up residence in the back of his pants, like usual, and the salt lines stayed. But he was conversational in the kitchen for a while before going to study on the couch. The darkness in his face slowly faded until it was but a memory.

"Thanks Mac." Jess giggled in the kitchen as she started dinner.

* * *

><p>So, thoughts?<p>

stick around. I have several more chapters written and will be posting them soon. They get more and more fun as Jess and Dean get to know each other better.

~Kiliana


	3. Getting to know you

**Hey again my dear readers! sorry, I decided to rewrite part of the chapter so it took a bit longer to post then I planned. Anyway. Here you go.**

**As I already said, supernatural is not mine. I am just borrowing it for fun. ;) **

**Enjoy**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

><p>That was certainly not the last time Jess called poor Mac Roni. She called him once a month at least. It was kinda nice to have extended family who understood Sam better than she did – not that she would admit that. Plus, he intrigued her, so far she couldn't understand what it was about him that caused Sam to ignore his existence. Although he hadn't admitted as much, she was pretty sure Dean put up with her calls to keep tabs on his brother.<p>

Seriously, it was screwing with her head. If she even suggested bringing up the topic of Dean around Sam, he walked away or changed the subject so fast it made her head spin. In contrast, Dean seemed almost hungry for information of his brother's latest antics. Sam pushed away, Dean held on – and they both were in pain at the separation that only one of them was forcing – scrap that, Dean hadn't exactly called either and, well, the road goes both ways. But then, he was respecting Sam's desires – at least the ones that Sam expressed. Yep. It messed with her head big time.

But, it didn't stop her from calling. If anything, she couldn't get her mind off of the mysterious brother. Sometimes when Sam was gone, she would sit on the couch and bounce the phone in her hand wondering if Dean would be annoyed if she called. She really did _try _not to call him too often, she didn't want him to stop calling back. Once a month might be a little generous, in reality is was probably every third week. As she expected, he didn't always call her back.

After a while, it was almost therapeutic, she would call, the phone would ring, she would talk about Sam and then would vent about the latest annoyance, recent stupid trends; anything that bothered her that she couldn't tell her friends – as if she could tell Dean for some reason. Most of the times he called her back:

"Hey Dean, Jess, call me if you get a chance. Sam is really worried, but he won't call you. He thinks you might be hurt and it is eating him up with worry. So if you are not hurt, I might be able to relieve his fears without having any of my own. I know. Silly right? But call anyway if you get the chance."

It was three days before Mac called her back. Needless to say, she had started to wonder if Sam's fears were actually real.

"Dean!" she almost shouted at the phone.

"Hey." He grunted, the usual disarming smoothness completely lacking.

"Hey, are you alright?" her voice unconsciously softened to the familiar soothing purr she used so often with Sam.

"I'm fine." He growled.

"Bull." Jess retorted. Like, seriously. Who thinks they can possibly get away with saying that? It's like blaring a neon sign that reads "I'M SO NOT FINE!" especially when said with that voice tone.

"I could hang up." He retorted back darkly. Jess rolled her eyes.

"That wouldn't change the fact that I think that is bull."

There was a pause punctuated by a snort before he continued. "Sam's lucky."

"Thanks." Jess laughed, maybe he wasn't hurt too bad. "So how are you really?"

"I'm going to be fine." Long pause. "I've been better." She tapped her foot impatiently and could almost hear his roll his eyes at her through the phone. "I had an accident but I'm on the mend." He snapped.

"See, that I believe." She teased lightly.

"Ya whatever. How's Sam?" Always Sam. The familiar surge of jealously mixed with regret surged through her. Jealousy that Sam needed Dean and Dean needed Sam. Jealousy that none of her own family worried about her like that. Jealousy that she couldn't talk to him without talking about Sam. And regret that they wouldn't talk to each other.

"He'll be fine. He is stressed. There are a lot of tests coming up, and he has been eating a ton of that crap and cheese, but he'll be find when the tests are past."

"You said he was worried I was hurt?"

"Yeah, he woke one night frantic. Kept saying something about you getting hurt."

"Hum. Weird."

"Yeah, but you get hurt, right?"

"Take care Jess."

"Wait, Dean! De-" Jess snapped the phone shut and stared at it for a long time. "Yeah, you too Dean." She would have been annoyed if she wasn't so darn fond of him already.

* * *

><p>"Hey, s'Jess again. Obviously. I think you have caller ID and screen your calls. I bet I'm right. I bet your just waiting until I finish the message, then you're going to listen to it and decide if you should call me back. Brat. But hey, Sam's at class and I figured I might fill you in on how he is doing if you wanted to chat. Yeah, okay you probably saw right through that. I'm lonely. There I said it. Happy now? And no I am not going to call my friends because most of them are in class too. So I'm just sitting her, working on homework – um calling you actually – and thought it was time for a break. So, don't ignore me."<p>

Her phone rang a minute later.

"Dean."

"Jess."

"I was so right." She pumped her hand in the air.

"I don't always do it." He actually sounded just like Sam when he whined – or pretended to.

"Ha, no you just do it when Jess Moore calls, and probably everyone else, minus one or two people. I don't think you ever pick up for me."

"Meh, I know you'll leave a message. So, update? How's my brother?"

"Keeping on top of his school. He has some big tests coming up."

"You do realize that is the only thing he ever has coming up… geek"

"Oh, true. I think I say that every time you call."

Dean graced her with a snort. "How are you doing? Do you have a new job yet?"

"What? How the hell do you know I am looking for a job?"

"Um," With a stretch of the imagination, he almost sounded apologetic, "I keep tabs on you both. I mean I simply heard that you were out of a job. A friend drove past Stanford last week and checked in on you both. He overheard you tell Sam you had lost your job. I swear that's it."

"A friend huh." Jess sounded skeptical, something about Dean already knowing about her life without her telling him was slightly unsettling. What kind of person was he..?

"His names Caleb if it makes a difference," This time, no stretch of the imagination could make him sound apologetic. "…but don't tell Sam. You were at a park bench by a tree and he was parked on the other side of the tree. He really didn't mean to get that close, I just asked him to tell me how you both looked and if you looked fed and happy. That's all."

Jess laughed, she probably shouldn't have, but it was Dean, and well, she trusted him. "Ok I believe you. I don't know why. Seriously you could be a serial killer for all I know."

Dean laughed amused by the similarity of his job to serial killing but he didn't say that out loud. "Well I promise, no sneaking in the house, that one is completely forbidden."

"How many spies do you have in your pay?" Jess quipped honestly curiously.

Dean was silent for a minute. Jess imagined him counting slowly on his fingers, she made it to forty before he replied. "Three." Dean muttered. Jess almost laughed in relief and amusement at the honest embarrassment in his voice. At the obvious laughter, he vehemently defended his actions. "Hey, Sam's my _only_ brother and I have to keep him safe, and, well, for all intents and purposes, you are an extension of Sam now, so I keep my eye on you too."

Something in her chest tightened at the inclusion of her into his family. She swallowed the lump before replying in the most Dean appropriate manner. "You are really creepy Dean Winchester, you know that?"

"I've been told." He snarked, obviously relieved to have gotten away from the uncomfortable moment.

There was a click at the front door and Jess jumped. "Shit. Sam's home early, I wonder if his class was cancelled. I better go before he asks who I am talking too, take care of yourself."

"You betcha." He replied carelessly.

"I seriously doubt it stocker dude, you better be in one piece next time I call." A careful level of humor was glazing her dead serious words.

"Whatever. Take care of my brother Jess."

"Always do." Click. Tossed the phone in the couch just before Sam entered the room. Damn, Sam's brother was weird.

* * *

><p>Jess waited a full month before calling Mac again. She felt bad, truly terrible. Somewhere deep down she hoped his spies had already figured out her predicament and told him, but, still…<p>

Dean, it's Jess. Obviously." She nervously tapped her fingers on the table. "I hate to do this. I shouldn't've called. So… here's the deal. See, Sam's about to drop classes so he can get a part time job. The part time I picked up just isn't cutting it for my tuition right now. And well, I really don't want him to drop any classes, he'll lose his ride, and I can't drop anymore and maintain my scholarship, which would make the tuition higher – counterproductive. So… I was wondering if you know anyone who could help us out so I can pay for my next year of tuition. He is too prideful to ask for help, so am I usually. I can't ask my mom, she is still caring for my little sisters, the others are in school or married and barely surviving. And I can't call my dad, I mean, hell, I am going to be a social worker for a reason. I just – I don't know what to do! Call please." She was in tears when she hung up the phone.

It was two days before her phone rang. She wandered listlessly around from class to work and back home. Even Sam was in a funk. When her phone lit up with Mac's name, she almost fainted with relief. Somewhere along the way, she decided Dean had all the answers, she wasn't sure when that happened.

"Hey Jess, I got your message and you tuition has been paid up for a while so just make up a good story and tell Sam not to drop any classes." He said in way of greeting.

"Oh thank God. Even just one semester could get us back up on top of the water. What am I going to tell him?" Jess looked numbly at the computer as she drew up the page where she could see what was due. Her hands were literally shaking. Her school plan was set up so the entire semester was laid out but she could pay for it semester by semester.

"Um just tell him that some random homeless dude handed you a wad of cash and you went and paid-"

"Oh my God, Dean." Jess gasped and broke down in sobs clutching at the table for support.

"Um, it's no big deal Jess." Dean mumbled self-consciously.

"No big – DEAN!" Jess blubbered. "You paid ever single damn cent I owe to the end of my degree! Thank you so-" Click. Jess sat and gasped at the phone for a few moments her tears completely forgotten "You did NOT just hang up on me in the middle of me thanking you, DUDE! You did. You so did! What the Hell!"

Redial. The phone rang, rang, rang and went to voicemail – big surprise. She rolled her teary eyes.

"Hey I KNOW you are looking at the phone right now. Seriously. I CAN'T believe you hung up on me. I guess this will have to do. Dean, I don't know how to say thank you. I can't believe that you paid my entire loan, but thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Call me back and next time, pick up the damn phone!"

Her phone didn't ring, until she was walking away from ten minutes later.

"Dean?"

"You done bawling yet? Um, no chick-flick moments okay?" his voice was an interesting mix of indignant and grateful.

"It that you saying you don't know how to react when someone thanks you." She snapped.

"Probably, hell I don't know."

"Well, fine but thanks." She answered her voice gentling at the end.

"I did it for Sam you know." He muttered.

Jess shakily laughed at that, jealous and fond simultaneously, "Yeah, I know. Because I am an extension of Sam. I love you Dean."

"Wow. What the Hell did I just say?" there was a crash and muffled curse and she swore he just reeled into something.

"Heeh, I'm a girl. Live with it." She retorted after listening to him grunt around and presumably pick back up the phone.

"Okay, I gotta go, in a bit of a rush." He said rather unconvincingly.

"Yeah right. Hey, I still don't know what to say to Sam about the tuition."

"Just have him call the loan company, I fed them a wonderful alibi. You wrote a beautiful and moving essay to your senator asking for financial aid, and it moved him so much he decided to help you and your boyfriend reach your goals of being a social worker and a lawyer. It was a very beautiful essay Jess, you really should have kept a copy."

Jess laughed at him suddenly picturing him as a con-artist – completely with the Italian beret. "And what if he calls and they tell him it was actually you."

"Oh I am way better than that Jess, they certainly think it was the senator." Yep definitely the beret and possibly a mustache, she giggled at her own imagination.

"Thanks, you silly boy."

"Um, Jess, I wasn't kidding about being on a tight schedule. I do have to go."

"Ok, listen Dean, take care of yourself."

The smile in his voice was audible, "You too Sweetheart. And take care of my brother."

"Always do." Jess smiled at the computer as she closed the phone. Good lord she owed that man so much. But, really, he was SO weird!

* * *

><p><strong>Haha! okay, I had fun with that. <strong>

**Author note: Dean likes Jess as Sam's girl friend, he thinks of her as a little sister in a way, so he is less gruff and more lenient with her about the whole no display of emotion. Not that he lets her get away with "chick-flicks" but he doesn't always react, instead letting her be a girl. Jess is normally pretty emotional and he knows that. **

**Let me know that you think. Share the love. Feed the muse. Review. Thanks ;)**

**~Kiliana **


	4. Halloween

**Author's note: because today is Halloween, I wrote a quick special, it took me a couple hours but it was fun. This fits into my story during the last chapter. Jess calls Dean often and I obviously haven't written them all. So this fits in there.**

**I sorta thought it would be funny to write a Halloween chapter, and have Dean share a memory with Jess – one that Sam would never tell her. So here it is. Sorry if it is kinda rough. Once again I don't have a beta. So thanks for following me. Seriously you guys make my muse here SO happy.**

**I will update the story soon but here is a quick salute to the holiday. Have fun today guys!**

**Disclaimer: No I do not own Supernatural.**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

><p>Jess was all dressed up for Halloween, par usual, Sam was being a spoilsport. "I hate Halloween." He grumbled as he drug himself sea-anemone on land style through the house. Jess giggled at him as he slithered into the living room. Although on two feet he certainly looked like he was sliding.<p>

"Who hates Halloween silly?" she laughed and punched his arm lightly.

"Me." He retorted without any heat.

"So you said." She replied.

Sam grumbled something unintelligible and she thwacked him again. "Behave. You can go as a mad-scientist and wear what you have on if you insist, but the party is in three hours and you are going with me." She flashed her best puppy dog eyes at him – they weren't very affective her friends said. However, Sam wasn't her friends, and the plea worked on him.

"Fine. I'll go as Sam during finals week." He grinned.

Jess rolled her eyes. "And what? Mess your hair up and leave a shoe behind?"

"Hey, I am very organized even during finals." He replied with a mock hurt tone to his voice.

"Yeah, that's the problem. Go as "How Sam will never look, ever… ever, ever, ever… during finals week. People would probably find it hysterical because it is you." Jess grabbed her phone and a light jacket. "So, be ready when I get back. Diana is having a quick come put your costume on party, and although I am dressed, I thought I would drop in."

"Sure." Sam smiled congenially at her, gave her a kiss and pushed her towards the door.

Once outside Jess couldn't help but laugh in complete merriment.

Halloween was her favorite day of the year. When else did you ever get to dress up and eat a shit-load of candy. She traipsed along to the dorms and up to the third floor. Pausing at the door she slowly drew out her phone. It only took a moment of hesitation before she hit her speed-dial.

Once. Twice. Three times and beep.

She grinned. Of course. It's not like he would ever actually answer the phone.

"Hellooo. S'me duh. As if you don't already know that. Anyway, Happy Halloween. Your brother is being a jerk about it and doesn't want to dress up. But I may have forced him too." She giggled and twirled her hair mindlessly between her fingers. "So I figured I would just call you and say hi. Take care. Call me back if you can." She snapped the phone shut and opened the door.

"Jess!" Nora called from the other side of the room.

"Hey girl, cute outfit!" Diana laughed from the kitchen.

Jess grinned and settled into the crowd.

The noise and fun was so intense she almost didn't feel her pocket buzz. Her heart skipped. Pulling it out confirmed her suspicions. She flipped it open and stepped towards the door. "Hey Nora, tell Diane I stepped out for a moment. My cousin called, I'll be back in." she yelled behind her before closing the door and lifting the phone to her ear. "Dean!"

"Hey, you at a party?" he asked. He sounded weary, broken even. The elation that had so recently filled her chest turned into cold worry.

"No, no. Are you alright? And don't give me any crap 'cause you sound like a zombie." She asked letting her voice sharpen into what she hoped sounded like a command.

"Hey, it's Halloween." He offered lamely.

"Hardy Har Har!" she retorted. "You're so funny Dean."

"I know, it's not my fault I'm the only one in my family to have inherited it."

"Oh ouch. I think you're the only one who inherited bad jokes."

"Do you even know Sam?" Dean choked out stifling a cough with a laugh and squeaking at the end.

"Good point." Jess did laugh at that. "So, are you going to live?"

"Yeah." He answered sounding more tired by the moment.

"I really wish I knew what you do that gets you hurt all the time and left Sam with more scars than a patch-work quilt." She growled rhetorically. Like they would ever actually answer the question.

"You know, the usual." Dean's voice had taken on the sly I'm-more-trouble-than-I-am-worth quality as he drawled into her ear, "Went to a bar, picked up a hot chick, got mauled."

"Wow! Stop right there Winchester." Jess laughed. "TMI dude!"

"Seriously." He ended in the same voice.

"Whatever silly. So are you doing anything this evening or do you hate Halloween as much as your brother?"

"Are you kidding? I love Halloween! Sam and me, we would live it up on Halloween! Haunted houses and everything. We had a running competition and kept a tally even, the goal was to scare the people who were trying to scare you. So we would hang out in the house and whenever they would scare someone else, we would jump them. It was awesome!"

Dean's voice sounded more alive than usual as he retold the story with great gusto. Jess was captivated. This was something completely foreign to her. Not only was this a story about Sam's mysterious childhood, but she honestly couldn't imagine him being a small scrawny thing and scaring the scarers.

Dean chuckled lost in the memory for a moment. "We were really good at it too. As long as there were no clowns." He added fondly. "One year we talked our dad into letting us waste a little money on make-up and we went the whole nine yards. I painted him up to look like a bloody-zombie-axe-murderer-turned-rabid-ghost and I painted my own face and arms too look like I had pussy wounds and was bleeding from multiple gashes in my face, neck, and arms, and then I matted my hair with fake blood. I'm pretty sure I have a fake sword 'impaled' in my chest."

"Gross." Jess laughed still having trouble picturing them. She was certainly not having any trouble picturing the make-up job, just the boys beneath.

"Yeah, Sam was thirteen that year and had just shot up to five-foot-six. It was awesome, best Halloween ever because I am pretty sure we scared everybody we targeted that night. Don't let him fool you, he loves Halloween."

"No. I think he is right. I think he hates it now. You're not here."

"Whatever." Jess was pretty sure Dean would claw and bite his way out of chick-flick moment long before accepting that emotions weren't scary. Plus, it was Sam, and he tended to avoid talk about Sam wishing he was around. _If he missed me he would call Jess. _He had told her once. She knew how much he craved hearing it, but she also figured it hurt more than it was worth sometimes and seeing as how it was Halloween and the wound Sam had left was probably raw, she understood.

And when the Hell had she decided Dean wasn't the reason Sam hated his childhood? She was pretty sure Sam had been abused... and considering her own childhood.

So, when had she decided Dean was okay? Wounded? Wow, she had way too much faith in this complete stranger turned big brother. But she was okay with it. that was weird in itself.

"What do I do with him them?" she asked after a pause.

"Whatever you want. He is your problem now." Dean grunted shifting somewhere on the other end of the phone, presumably into a different position on a bed maybe.

"Very funny mister, "How's my brother doing" every single time I call."

"Wh'ever. He'll stop grumbling if you give him crunch bars or kit-kats. They're his favorites." Dean chuckled again.

"Thanks for the ammo." Jess replied amiably.

"mmmmhmm," Dean sounded literally seconds away for sleep all of a sudden. Jess figured that the assumption that he had gone to a bed was probably accurate.

"Hey Jess?" Diana called from the door. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's great. I'm fine. I'll be in in a minute."

"What?" Dean grumbled.

"Not you silly, I was talking to my friend." Jess answered sweetly as Diana closed the door again.

"I should let you get back to your friends." He mumbled. It sounded more like "I shu'd le'you get back't'ya friends" in reality but she was a pro at deciphering Sam mumbo-jumbo and Dean's slur talk wasn't much different. They both had the same accent, whatever accent it was.

"It's okay. I should probably get back in there in a minute but I think I have a little more time before they get suspicious." Jess replied "Are you okay for real?"

"Mmmhm. I think I'll ring in the New Year in style with beer and a serious nap." Dean retorted still groggy but at least understandable.

"Now I know you're not okay. You're delirious. It's October genius, not January."

"Nope. My New Year starts Halloween." He retorted easily. "What's your costume?"

"Oh me? I'm a policewoman this year."

Dean chuckled. "Awesome! Have fun. And-"

"I know." She cut him off. "Take care of your little brother. You betcha chief, I always do."

Dean's chuckle was swifty turning into a snore.

"Hey Dean."

"Hum! Yeah? Still here." _B__arely._

"Listen, thanks for talking. I'm serious now, you sleep and don't do anything stupid until you're better please."

"Me, stupid. Awe, Jess, I'm better than that. I am surprised you think so little of me." She rolled her eyes fondly.

"Goodnight, happy Halloween darling."

"You too, sweetheart." The line went dead. Jess smiled to herself for a moment and returned to the party. There were a few, "what was that about,"s and a "Is everything okay?" but the whole "My cousin called, just catching up" gig seemed to work like a charm. Before long Jess found herself back in her apartment confronting what had to be the most dejected, worn-out, ready to crash and never move again, but still studying like his life depended on it, law-student she had ever laid eyes on.

"Sam." Was all she could manage. He grinned and it almost ruined the effect.

Jess laughed and swiped a pen off the table and propped it behind his ear. "Nice! I like it baby!" she laughed and kissed his adorable face. With a flourish she held out a bag to him. "I gotcha some candy even though you said you didn't like it." She laughed.

Sam opened the bag and his face lit up. "Hay, kit-kats and crunch are my favorite. How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." She replied coyly. It was certainly turning into the perfect Halloween.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Halloween! let me know what you think. Reviews are all the payment writers need.<strong>

**~Liana**


	5. Mac the Hobo?

**Hey my lovely followers! You make me so happy! **

**Dean's worshiper: thank you so much for the reviews! I am glad you are enjoying the story! **

**SciFiRockerGeek: Thank you! Yes, I love writing their interactions, and the twist of Sam is just icing on the cake. It's fun!**

**DragonRider2000: I am SO happy to be entertainment! It is why I write. Thank you for following.**

** Note: I probably said this before, this is not going to turn into a Dean/Jess story... I like him being her "big brother" too much. **

**I do not own Supernatual**

**Tag: HUMOR! :) yes I had fun writing this.**

**I have already written the next three chapters, but they need a little work, so I am going to post this short chapter a little earlier, so I have a bit more time to fix up the next chapter. I love ya all! enjoy!**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

><p>"Hey Dean, It's Jess. You know that already. So, Sam's on a trip for the next three days, if you wanted to call and chat at any time, my schedule is free. I thought maybe I would catch you up on what's been going on for the past month. Anyway Dude. It's up to you. Bye."<p>

Dean didn't call her back that day or the next. It wasn't until the last day of Sam's trip. Jess was in the shower when he did call, but he left a message. It was so amusing she replayed twice before calling back.

"Hey geerl." He squeaked in a hobo slang that she almost couldn't understand. "Dis ees Mac-er-Roni. I gotcha mess-sage. I'ma free naw fer da evenin. Call iffin ya wants too. Audios ameegas."

The phone rang once before he picked up. "Hey Jess."

"Hey Mac-er-Roni. What's up with the slang?"

"Well, it was fun, but the practical side was just in case anyone one else heard it, it wouldn't sound like me."

Obviously by anyone else he meant Sam. "Oh well that makes sense. So how are you?"

"I'm fine." He answered without thinking.

"Is that a lie?" Jess was skeptical. After three years with Sam, she was well used to the "I'm fine" deal.

"Not really. And before you ask, I broke my wrist but it's almost healed." Dean sounded annoyed but amused at her.

"Well, I'm sorry you got hurt." Jess replied.

"Yeah, whatever." He sounded like he was about to hang up on her and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't hang up on me dude."

"Why not? Geez you're so controlling!" He fussed in an obviously Sam imitation voice.

"Hah! The sad thing is that sounds just like him." Jess giggled. "Don't mock my boy-friend."

"Please. I've got every right." Dean drawled at her.

"Oh yeees ameego!" Jess's hobo slang was recognizably reminiscent of Dean's message. She could practically hear him smile over the phone.

"Wow. Um, Jess, look I'm working a job and I have an important call from a... colleague... coming in on the other line. I gotta take it."

"Call me later." She agreed amiably. She knew better then to ask about the obvious lie.

"Sure thing." He replied.

But she knew he wouldn't. He never called. She was always the one to pick up the phone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if both brothers were like that and that is why they never made up.

It hurt her more than it used to.

Sometimes it seemed as if every passing day, each flitting week, as the fragile hourglass of time slowly ran out, the pain she felt at the separation of her boys grew more and more intense.

* * *

><p><strong>Just a mix of humor and sad little tidbits of sadness. <strong>

**Short, yes, I warned you. But the next chapter will totally make up for that... :) **

**~Kiliana**


	6. The Boys are Back in Town (Part 1)

**Here ya go. Another chapter (when I should be studying...) :) this chapter is actually the first one I wrote - so basically the reason I wrote this story. It's going to be split into two or three parts, so this is just the first part.**

**Anyway. I hope you like it.**

**I have finals for some of my classes next week, so I might be slow posting the next chapter. thanks for sticking with me.**

**I'll be posting a new two-parter story pretty soon, called "Box of Memories" (right now, it could change, but I'll make sure to let you know) Great fun where Sam and Dean find some old mementos. It has nothing to do with this particular story line, but I'd like to know what you think. Keep your eyes open for that post. probably tomorrow after I clean it up a little more.**

**Enjoy and as always: I do not own supernatural, I am not making money from this. :)**

**Luvies! ~ Kiliana**

* * *

><p>It had been nine months since the first time Jess had called Sam's brother, nine month since she learned what it meant to have a brother, nine months since she learned just how much Sam had lost.<p>

And here she was at the side of the same Sam, a very sick and getting sicker Sam. His sweat slicked hair was clinging to his forehead, and to the pillow, and to the sheets, and to anything it could latch onto like a living creature from the pit of the ocean. Jess was worried sick as Sam's fever climbed steadily towards 104^F as the third day slowly ticked passed. Having exhausted every medicine she could get her hands on, she finally caved in desperation and called the one person for whom Sam had been calling the for the past thirty six hours since the fever had started.

"Hey Dean, It's Jess. I hope you get this." She took in a shuttering breath and wiped her tears away. "I don't know what to do! Sam has never been this sick before, and his fever won't come down. It's sitting fat and happy at one hundred-three point five and I don't know what to do. I just- I mean- I was thinking he would get better, but it's been three days and he became irrational this morning when his fever spiked. Help please Dean… I don't know if he is going to be ok, or if I should take him to the hospital. Call me please. I don't know what to do." Jess hung up the phone and rested her head on the back of the chair.

Sam moaned turning over in this feverish dream and called out for Dean again. "It's okay baby." She murmured brushing the rebellious hair aside and kissing his sweat soaked forehead. Her breath hitched as she faced the uncertain possibility of Dean not getting her call for days. Maybe she should take Sam to the hospital.

Jess startled a few minutes later when her phone went off. She fumbled for it barely glancing at the caller ID before opening it.

"Jess, I'm in the car and I'll be there in three hours. Get a cold rag, if you haven't, and cool down his face." He said before she could even say hi.

"I have a rag." Jess defended slightly stung that he thought so low of her despite the unbelievable relief she felt at his words. Her voice was shaky and her emotions felt all over the place and she nervously twisted her hand into the sheet.

"Is it cold? As in Ice cold." Dean replied completely unfazed by her tone.

"No." she murmured brokenly realizing again that she hadn't the faintest idea what she was doing. _Wait did he just say he was in the car? Coming? Coming in three…_

"Get a bowl of ice-water, and dip the rag into that whenever it gets lukewarm." Dean gently drew her attention back.

"Kay." _Dean. Here. Coming… Holy-_

"Hey, you doing great." Dean's voice had a smooth relaxing quality instead of the easy happy-go-lucky charm or snapped harsh pained or even its usual Casanova quality. Jess registered somewhere in her groggy brain that is was slightly impressive that he could completely relax her worry without her hearing anything more than his voice. "Jess, hold on for a few more hours and I'll be there okay?"

_I'll be there. Coming. Dean the mystery brother... _"You're actually coming?" she said still completely disbelieving. _Oh my -_

He chuckled halfheartedly. "I know what an ass my brother can be when he is that sick. And you sound ready to fade, you need backup." He paused listening to her hitching breaths. "Cold rag Jess, bring his temperature down."

"Yeah, I got it, cold rag." _Dean is coming. Dean is actually coming... coming._

"Grab a towel from the bathroom, soak it and wrap it around his torso. It might be a good idea to put a plastic trash bag under him so you don't waterlog the bed."

"But he is shivering already." Only after she said it did she realize how stupid she must sound. He probably had loads of experience with fev-

"I know. It's the fever. Do it anyway. Believe me, I understand how fevers work, I have handled my fair share of them. Trust me Jess." And she did. God help her she did.

She laughed unsteadily. "I haven't ever met you, Sam denies your existence most of the time, and still I trust you explicitly. What does that say about me." She snorted. She wanted to start crying again, but still, she had appearances to attempt to gather up and hopefully reinstate after the past several minutes of horrible weepy conversation. _Though she did have a good excuse... _

"That you are a smart girl." He laughed over the phone. "Hey." His voice returned to soothing calm. "How long have you been up?"

"I think I got an hour of sleep last night, but that's it since his fever spiked yesterday morning." She vaguely attempted to replay the past day.

"Alright, hang in there sweetheart."

"You keep saying that." Ya her brain and her mouth had a disconnect somewhere because she wasn't usually this spacey...

"If I am right, I have only said that twice. I have two more allowed before I match you for "I don't know what to do's" from your voice message on my phone." Dean retorted gently. She was pretty sure he was being nice to her because of her horribly sleep deprived state._  
><em>

"True that." She murmured over the clatter of ice as she filled a bowl.

"Good girl. Three hours." The line went dead. Jessica draped the rag over Sam's forehead and headed for the bathroom. Catching a glance of herself in the mirror, she stopped short.

"Oh my goodness, Sam's brother is coming and I look like shit." She gasped. _He really is coming. I better clean up to be at least someone presentable. I don't want to embarrass Sam. _"Wow I am hopelessly self-centered if I'll let my boyfriend burn in fever so I can dress up for his brother…" she laughed unsteadily at herself and felt only slightly better.

Yanking out her make-up bag, she tried to remedy some of the damage sleep-deprivation had wrought on her face. Mascara, some concealer, a bit of lip gloss, and she looked less like a zombie and more like a very tired girl. She tied up her hair, slipped into lounge pants and a modest T-shirt.

"What am I doing?" she asked the mirror. "I totally called Sam's estranged brother, who he desperately wants, but won't let go of his pride long enough to seek reconciliation. I know hardly know anything about the guy – I know he liked a stray cat, which doesn't count much - and I asked him to come while Sam as a freakin' fever. Please don't let this be a mistake." Then she turned away. Fear and anticipation tied and untied knots in her stomach as she dragged the towel of the rod and soaked it in the cold water.

A towel, and trash bag, and a bunch of nervous laughs and stomach flutters later, Jess was seated by Sam again with a freshly cooled rag. Her eye flitted to the clock. Thirty minutes had passed.

Two hours thirty minutes to go.

Jess leapt up and, leaving the door open so she could hear Sam, raced to the kitchen.

A batch of cookies made from frozen homemade dough and several trips to the bedroom later. An hour had passed.

Two hours to go. Nervously Jess pulled the cookies out and set them on the cooling rack.

Ten minutes.

Twelve minutes.

Still twelve minutes.

Jess checked on Sam, then sat on the bed and folded the laundry.

Thirty minutes.

An hour and a half left. Sam was tossing so Jess returned to his side for the millionth time since she had stood up. She smoothed back his hair, freshened the cloth and put it back over his forehead before tucking him in. She sat back. Sam was still tossing and murmuring Dean's name in fevered sleep.

Thirty-two minutes. _WOW, Jess, nervous much. No not nervous, just stressed and need help, just need help, okay, so nervous too. But I've never met any of his family. Okay yeah totally nervous. Calm down Jess. He is Sam's brother. He is nice. You trust him, he is kind over the phone. Seriously, nervous much!_

Jess cooled Sam's forehead stood up to walk around. A yawn that almost split her head in half prevented her from seeing Sam for the few minutes before he shot up right screaming Dean's name. She raced to his side. "Hey, hey baby. You're alright. Lie down sweetie." She dodged his frantically swinging arms and rested her hand against his forehead. "Shit Sam. You're fever is going back up." She got socked in the mouth for that. Then one look at his crazed and glassed eyes had her backing off again while sucking at her split lip.

"Lie down baby, Dean is on his way, okay? Dean is coming, please lie down!" she pleaded huddled at the foot of the bed matching stare for glassy uncomprehending stare.

Sam mumbled something and lurched for his – his gun!

Jess fled.

He was crazy and she didn't know if he was going to take a shot or not. As she fled, all she heard was something about ghosts and monsters and "Let my brother go you damn beast." Which was said with total clarity.

Jessica slammed the door.

She could hear him tossing around, then a thump as he hit the floor. With frantic haste she slammed a random chair against the door to hold it shut since it swung towards her when opened. Then, shivering with fright, Jess crumbled to the ground shaking as she dug her phone out of her pocket. The clock said it had been two hours. Only two hours. Dean was still and hour away.

The phone rung once.

Twice, and she fully expected it to go to voice-mail like it had every other time. But half way through the third ring, Dean's perfectly calm voice greeted her, "What did he do?" he asked resigned, as if fully expecting something.

Jess less loose... "Oh God Dean, he is insane. He has his gun and he is shrieking something about monsters and he called me a beast and HE HAS A GUN Dean, he was going to shoot me and he was screaming for me to "let his brother go" and I shut the door and blocked it with a chair and HE IS CRAZY and I think he fell off the bed and I am SO scared! Dean HELP!" she cried frantically.

Dean remarkably said nothing until she had quieted to gasping hitched breathes. "Damn." Okay, not the reaction she expected.

"Dean?" Jess asked softly, crawling to the couch and curling up pitifully.

"I'm thirty minutes out Jess, I'm pushing the speed limit but I'll push it further. Stay out of that damn room before I get there, okay?"

"No problem." Jess's voice shook from the hysterics threatening to burst out of her chest.

"Better yet, stay on the phone."

"kay." She breathed.

"Are you in the living room?"

"Yes, I'm on the couch."

"Okay, now that you are calm, tell me what happened again.

"Oh kay." Jess breathed calming herself further. "I went in and I was cooling his forehead. Then I stood up to stretch the cramps in my legs and I turned away for half a moment and he shot into an upright position yelling for you. I tried to calm him down but he was throwing punches and his eyes were cloudy and unfocused. He hit me on the mouth, not bad, but I backed off. His fever had gone up again I think. And then he started babbling about ghosts and monsters and then he was reaching for his gun and God help me I was terrified and-"

"Hey, breathe Jess, calm down, you're rushing again." Dean interrupted her rising panic.

"Yeah, Yah, right. Oh kay. I'm good. I'm good. I'm safe. I'm calm. Wheeeeeew." She had completely messed up her hair again from her frantic hands, but she started to breathe in tandem with Dean's exaggerated breathing in her ear.

"Better." He asked in his soothing gravelly voice.

"Yeah." She certainly felt better. "So he reached over and grabbed his gun from where it was hidden under the pillows. I fled and as I was slamming the door, he yells "Let my brother go you damn beast." I put the chair in the living room under the door handle like you see people do on TV. Then I called you."

"Can you remember anything that he was saying other than that?"

"Something about the moon, and a wolf, and monsters, and you I think."

"Awe shit." Dean cursed.

Jess felt his voice calm her again. She was so tired and scared. She just wanted him there already.

"Are you close?"

"Yep. Fifteen minutes. Did you use Sam's geeky oak chair? Cause that is going to be the only chair that will keep him in if he tries to get out."

"Yes, Is he going to be okay? Is he going to hurt himself" "_or me…" went unasked but clearly understood._ Jess was worried beyond belief when Dean said he might try to get out. It didn't even compute to her that perhaps she should be worried that he know about the fact that Sam had a favorite oak chair... after all Dean knew everything.

"He is confused and I am guessing he is too weak to try to do anything. Don't worry, when I get his fever back down he will be fine. My guess is that a nightmare is bleeding over into reality right now and he will go right back to his charming lethargic sick Sammy self when he fully wakes up. But I don't want you going in there if he has a gun, okay?"

"Oh don't worry. I love the man but I am totally creeped out by him right now."

"Good. Hey Jess, what is your favorite color?"

"Blue, why?" Jess asked totally confused again.

"Oh no reason, you know, passing the time. I'm driving remember, it's kinda monotonous."

"Right, and you're trying to distract me from the mess of boyfriend in the other room."

"Yahtzee." He laughed.

"Is that a family saying? Because Sam says that all the time."

"Oh really? He never used to, I only said that to annoy Dad and Sam and then it stuck. Heh, I still say it to annoy my Dad. So what is going on this weekend?"

Dean was the master at small talk, but Jess didn't really realize as much until a long time later when she was looking back. Even though she knew he was distracting her, he still managed to distract her from that knowledge. She hardly registered time passing before he suddenly interrupted her.

"Hey Jess, come unlock the door. See you in a sec." the line went dead and she stood turning slowly towards the door.

Time seemed to slow as she made her way across the carpet.

Suddenly she was afraid. For nine months she had wondered what he was like. She pictured him looking a lot like Sam, but more charming. He certainly sounded more charming, more at ease talking.

Was he tall and big like Sam? Did he have the same cute long floppy brown hair? Geeky hazel-brown eyes, perhaps...

Was he friendly, helpful, a jerk?

...Now here he was. Just on the other side of the wood.

Jess slowly turned the lock and took a deep breath.

* * *

><p><strong>Tada! A cliffy!<strong>

**YAY! Like I said, this is the reason I came up with the story! I like this chapter a lot!**

**So, what do you think so far? feed my muse. (she drives me crazy when I ignore her)**

**Only seconds away... seconds... **

**~Kiliana**


	7. The Boys are Back in Town (Part 2)

**So, here is the next part of the ongoing story. :) Sorry it took me longer to post then I wanted. It is finals week for one of my classes and I am covered up with essay writing. But I always make time for my lovely readers. :)**

**I also got my other story posted. Check it out. It's called "Box of Memories."**

**Boredwaywarddragon: Thank you SO much! *Happy dance* I'm so glad you like them! Yes I was considering doing another Sherlock but Dean and Sam adn Jess are just SO much fun to write. maybe when I finish this story I'll look into doing another Sherlock.**

**idreamofivan: Thank you for your thoughts. I went back and worked on that section, it's less sappy now :D and here you with another chapter. **

**darknessprincess1990, lovejensenacklesforever and cyenthia 30: I'm SO glad you liked it. I really am it makes my day to know that people enjoy my work. I love the relationship between Dean and Jess, he is such an awesome big brother to Sam and also to Jess now :) (Ps: lovejensen, your pen name cracked me up!)**

**Here you go**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

><p><em>Last chapter:<em>

_"Hey Jess, come unlock the door. See you in a sec." the line went dead and she stood turning slowly towards the door._

_Time seemed to slow as she made her way across the carpet._

_Suddenly she was afraid. For nine months she had wondered what he was like. She pictured him looking a lot like Sam, but more charming. He certainly sounded more charming, more at ease talking._

_Was he tall and big like Sam? Did he have the same cute long floppy brown hair? Geeky hazel-brown eyes, perhaps..._

_Was he friendly, helpful, a jerk?_

_...Now here he was. Just on the other side of the wood._

_Jess slowly turned the lock and took a deep breath._

* * *

><p>Now:<p>

When she swung the door open, she was left gaping in shock at the man outside. He was certainly not what she had been expecting. He was at least six feet tall, short compared to Sam, with dirty short blonde hair and charming, dangerous and completely disarming green eyes. His torn jeans had seen plenty of use, she decided. AC/DC t-shirt under a plaid collared shirt. He had a leather jacket folded over the arm that held a military duffle while the other was idly twirling what must have been car keys.

"You done checking me out yet beautiful?" he asked in the most charming drawl he had used yet. Jessica felt herself flush to the roots of her hair before glancing away.

"You're just nothing like what I imagined." She said hurriedly. "Come in, come in."

"You know." Dean chucked as he brushed past and dropped his bag and jacket in the floor. "You are way out of my dorky little brother's league."

Jess couldn't have felt more awkward if she had tried.

Here was the man she had been talking to and known about – completely without his brother's knowledge – for nine months. Now with just him in the apartment – not counting the sick delirious one – she felt totally out control. Dean took half a minute longer to size her up leaving her in awkward agony before taking pity on her. He quietly dug a kit out of his duffle and touched her arm. "Where is my geeky brother?"

"He is in here." She said nervously as she gestured towards the chair and door.

"Hey don't worry sweetheart, it's gonna be fine. When I'm around everything is rainbows and unicorns and sticky pancakes."

Jessica did a double take. _What?_

Dean winked at her and moved the chair. She only closed her mouth when she realized she had left it hanging open.

"Sammy?" he voice had changed again to soft caring and simply everything Jessica imagined brother's to sound like. She only had sisters herself. "Hey geek-boy, I'm coming in. The monsters are all dead and the ghosts are gone. Please don't shoot me, kay?"

Dean cracked the door and surveyed the room. There was a lump of tangled sheets and sweaty gasping giant in the middle of the floor but Dean's eyes were drawn first to the shiny gun in the hand outstretched towards the door. _Damn._

Dean stepped carefully into the room leaving Jess in the doorway. Sam cracked an eye open. Suddenly in a flurry of gasping, struggling movement, Sam sat up and drew a shaky bead on the intruder.

"Son of a Bitch! Sam!" Dean cursed flinging himself forwards as the gun went off. The fight was completely one-sided, Sam's faint struggles not close to combat worthy. In less then ten seconds Jess found herself staring down at Dean – silver barreled gun safely tucked in his own waist band by a gun of his own _Winchesters and their guns_ – and Sam, who seemed more sweat then man at the moment.

"Damn it brother, you trying to kill me? If I wasn't so embarrassed by your terrible aim or by the fact that you're shooting at me, I might be really proud that you're still trying to protect yourself even when raving in fever." Dean grinned and tipped his brother's damp face back to look at him.

"Dean." Sam gasped trying to get loose with surprisingly forceful kicks and punches.

"I'm right here kiddo." Dean's voice was soft again, and filled with love, even while he manhandled is brother.

"No. No! DEAN!" Sam shouted hoarsely still frantically trying to claw his way free.

Dean pinned his arms between them and drew his brother up to his chest rocking slowly back and forth.

"Hey. Hey, I know kid. I'm here ok, listen to my voice. I'm here. Your fantastic awesome girlfriend – who you totally don't deserve, like congrats on manning up and join the big boy club – called me okay? I'm here."

"Dean. Where's – I need – I – I want Dean!" Sam's voice cracked and struggled a little longer before burying his head in the crook of Dean's neck, stilling instantly.

"Dean?" He asked in a small quivering voice.

"S'me punk." Dean replied dragging him in tighter.

"Can't be… Dean s'mad t'me. Dean. I want m'brotder." Sam sounded miserable.

"For being as smart as you are geek, you sure can be stupid. I'm your brother. I forgave you before you walked out. I'll always come if you call."

Jess felt a funny lump in her throat at the touching exchange and suddenly felt like an intruder, out of place, and the familiar surge of jealously that the name Dean conjured up came rushing in full force, but this time she was not bitter. Seeing them together on the floor – watching Dean carefully brush Sam's hair out of his waxy face – witnessing Sam completely relax and melt into his brother. Her heart felt ready to overflow with sheer happiness and cute-cuddly-fluffy-bunnies (And she totally imagined that sentence in Dean's voice.)

Dean swept Sam off the floor with practiced ease and – keeping Sam's nose firmly planted in his neck – settled them together on the bed. For a few moments longer he remained firmly crushing his brother to his chest while murmuring soft words of encouragement, forgiveness, and (though he would never admit it because hey, chick-flicks-not-allowed) love.

"Hey Sammy, I got your back!"

"B'Dean iss in trouble. Monsers, lycanthropy." Sam mumbled into Dean's neck.

"Only you would use big-ass words when running hundred-five little big geek brother. Damn you're hot. And not hot like lady hot, you look like Hell warmed over, Sasquatch. Plus, do you really think a ware-wolf could possibly keep your awesome big brother away from you? They're not that good." Dean chuckled rocking Sam.

Sam hummed into Dean's shoulder. "Miss you." He said at last.

"Me too kiddo!" Dean said with a strange hitch to his voice. He blinked his eyes a few times before finally setting Sam against the pillows letting his hand linger on his forehead.

"Hey listen kid, I gotta bring your temperature down, okay? So I'm gonna figure out what is actually is first." He dug into the small kit he had with him and pulled out an electronic thermometer and jammed it kindly at Sam's ear. "Dude! Hundred-four point six is impressive. Way to go princess." He exclaimed. "But seriously, could you try for once in your life to NOT be a drama queen? One-hundred-four is a bit excessive even for you. If you wanted attention, you could'a simply jumped up on a table and danced. That combined with your freakish height would'a done it." Sam hummed half-consciously trying to focus on Dean's words. Flipping the thermometer off somewhere to the side, Dean dug out a bottle of liquid medicine. With a medicine syringe, he drew up some of the liquid and slipped it between his brother's cracked ashen lips. Sam coughed a little but swallowed reflexively.

"Okay buddy, now I'm going to cool you off."

"Can I help?" Jess asked from the foot of the bed. To Dean's credit, he didn't jump at the sudden reappearance of her forgotten presence.

"Actually yes. If you would get out a fresh pair of sweatpants and a shirt... Wait. Oh Sammy! Oh you stupid adorable freak!" Dean laughed and deflated back the bed beside his brother.

"What?" The alarm in Jess's voice snapped Dean back out of whatever fog he was in. He blinked at her for a moment before his emerald eyes drifted back to his brother.

"I always wondered what happened to that stupid shirt." Dean whispered and tapped Sam's chest right in the middle of the Def Leppard symbol.

"It's your shirt?" Jess asked softly. "That makes a lot of sense actually, he wears it a lot when he gets stressed."

Dean ran his hand across his face and stood up again. "Yeah, when he was a kid if he was feeling bad, he would always ask me if he could wear a shirt of mine to bed. As we got older he started stealing them without asking. That was his favorite when he was seventeen and it vanished not long before he left. I guess I just thought he wouldn't have wanted the reminder... Just a stupid shirt, but it was mine and he liked it. Anyway, if you will get him a fresh sweats, I've got a t-shirt in my bag. Stay here half a sec. Hey kid, I'll be right back." Dean wasn't kidding. He had hardly left before Jess found her arms full of stained dirty "Deep Purple" shirt. "And get him some fresh boxers too. Put them in the bathroom." Dean said before pealing the sweat soaked t-shirt off of his compliant brother. When he was suitably stripped to his boxers, Dean settled his blazing hot forehead against his neck and hoisted him easily off the bed headed for the bathroom.

"Jess." He called and she poked her head out the door.

"Yes?"

"Hit the water. Plug the drain and turn on only cold."

Jess did as she was told and when she turned back around, Dean was in a squat with Sam balanced across his lap and against his chest. Streaks of sweat were training their way across his cheeks and down his neck into Sam's already sweat soaked hair. "For someone who only eats rabbit food, you weigh a ton little brother." He huffed. Jess laughed in amusement at his words and straightened up.

"That's done, what next Dean?"

"Nothing sweetheart, I've got it from here. If you could empty the freezer of ice and bring it in here, that would be great."

Jess did just that and by the time she was back, Dean was settling Sam into the tub and kicking sweat soaked boxers at the laundry hamper.

"Here." She said and was promptly shocked to see Dean simply dump the entire tub over his brother's head. Sam was shivering violently under Dean's gentle hand.

"Thanks sweetheart, now as I understand it, and simply from the way you look – which, by the way, is like someone two steps away from their grave, having already dug themselves back out after coming back as a zombie – and I would know – you haven't slept enough in the past three days, so go crash on the couch. I got this, and Sam is going to be fine, but you don't need to watch this next bit. Please, Jess." Dean had looked back up and his steady green gaze met her tired one. She folded like a house of cards and dragged herself out to the living room where she crashed on the couch and didn't move from the rest of the night.

Seriously who came up with Zombies and digging themselves back out of graves? One thing for sure, Dean had a terrific sense of humor coupled with a vivid imagination and a colorful vocabulary. He was probably quite the party!

* * *

><p><strong>Tada!<strong>

**Review my friends, it only takes a minute!**

**heehee... thanks idreamofivan, I laughed when I read your review... that was totally not what I had in mind... so I fixed it. :) much as I would love to see Sam try to squeeze his way into a size small kids t-shirt, I seriously don't think that it is possible. :P**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Love you all**

**~Kiliana**


	8. The Boys are Back in Town (Part 3)

**Hey! So this is probably the longest chapter yet. I was thinking about breaking it in two again, but no I wont. I LOVE this chapter. (I love the whole "the boys are back in town" chapter ark together but that is a given) I have BIG plans about where to take this story, but this is the end of what I had pre-written. Luckily for you'll, my finals for the year and OVER (thank heavens I did the fast tracks) so I should have time to write more again. **

**Shoot me ideas to write in. I love suggestions!**

**Scrappingrrl, I love that. sick!Sam. So I figured that I really like making Sam sick... I'll definitely write him passing out. that will be fun! (Coming up in the next few chapters: Sam passes out! humor!)**

**Superchiwo: Dean is the best big brother ever! (I get jealous of Sam every now and again)!**

**Thank you ALL for replying! I am SO glad that people are enjoying this. I REALLY am so glad!**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

><p>When Jess came to – presumably the next day although it would have been the next century for all she knew – the house was alarmingly silent. Jess rubbed her eyes. <em>Sam was sick. Sam was acting delirious. Dean came. DEAN CAME! <em>Jess shot to her feet and stumbled blindly over the coffee table crashing into the lamp and scattering large nerdy textbooks everywhere. Jess lunged after the lamp and head her breath as the thudding subsided. _Ouch, that was not the plan. _

Slowly she picked herself back up off the floor and brushed her mess of hair behind her ears. Then suddenly she heard someone knocking on the front door… again. _Well shit, At least I know what woke me up. _She thought, amused when her mind thought that in Dean's voice.

"Hmm?" she asked – well, actually hmmed – at the person outside as she swung the door open blinking owlishly in the unexpected light.

"Jess, are you alright?" Her best friend and old roommate almost yelled. That was about when Jess registered who it was. "No one has heard from either you or Sam for three days and you haven't been answering your phones!" Lola sounded legitimately worried.

"Oh yeah. We're fine. Well, I'm fine. Sam's had a fever for three days and it's been pretty tough. But I think he is on the mend." Jess mumbled. It was a testament to how well Lola knew her that she understood any of it.

"Oh you poor thing, then I won't come in and wake him," Lola's voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes darted around the dark room behind Jess. Her eyes quickly jumped back to the pale girl with dark rings around her eyes and she frowned, gently gripping Jess's arm. "But, I am going to bring you a proper meal. Does Sam feel up for food yet or am I only serving one."

"Ummmm, Dean'll need sompthin' too." Jess mumbled sleepily. She wondered how much he would eat. If he was anything like Sam, when Sam got hungry…

"Who?" Lola asked suddenly worried for Jess's mental health.

"Hum? What? Nothing, I think I said to bring him some too." Jess felt her face flush and covered it up with a massive yawn. Sam wouldn't appreciate her sharing the news that he had a brother. "Sorry I'm really tired I literally just woke up from the first sleep I've gotten in three days and I'm still feeling pretty trashed." She rubbed her eyes and grinned "Plus I haven't had any coffee yet."

Lola laughed suitably placated. "Ok silly girl, you get some more sleep and take care of that ridiculously tall boyfriend of yours," _And his ridiculously tall brother apparently _Jess thought remembering the six feet two inches of brother on her doorstep the day before… "…you a dish of something in a few hours for dinner." _Oh wait, _she had totally missed most of what Lola had said…

"Dinner? What about lunch?" Jess asked still groggy.

"Sweetie, it's three-thirty in the afternoon." Lola giggled feeling incredibly sorry for her turned-around-backwards-inside-out friend.

"Oh damn." Jess muttered and laughed unsteadily like a lunatic when she sounded just like Dean in her mind, again. Lola shook her head and kissed Jess on the cheek. "Get some more sleep lovie, I'll call you when I bring dinner. I'm gonna go feed the grape-vine that news that you guys are still alive and well be fine just as soon as Sam kicks this."

"Hey thanks, and thanks for stopping by Lola."

"No prob. We weren't sure what to do but four days seemed excessive." Lola grinned wickedly, "We thought maybe you too were just having the time of your life until you didn't show yesterday for Monday classes."

Jess blinked sleepily and worked for a moment to decipher Lola's words. "Oh, yeah, well… Night – I mean – morning – um, uuhh – afternoon Lola." Jess garbled and shut the door.

Lola's laugh came through the door clearly before she walked away.

Jess stumbled her way over to the bedroom door and peaked in. It was dark – much too dark to see anything or anyone.

"Hey Sweetheart, you should go back to bed, you were practically speaking Chinese to Lola just now." Dean quipped from the chair beside Sam.

"Is he ok?" Jess asked trying to peal her eyelids back open to focus on Dean in the dimly lit room.

"Yeah." Dean's calm reassured her better than his words. She jumped embarrassingly (if she had been awake enough to be embarrassed) when she suddenly felt his calloused hand gently touch her arm and steer her away from the doorway to what she assumed must have been the couch (if she had been awake enough to remember if they even had a couch.)

"Relax Jess, Sam's fine." Dean's voice rumbled from somewhere above her.

"Hmmmmm kay." She murmured before dropping off like a rock.

* * *

><p>When the sounds of knocking on the door sounded once again through the apartment and woke Jess up, she quickly picked up on the fact that time had to have past as it was certainly dark outside – that and she felt like a human being again. This time around she didn't knock over the lamp (although she slipped on one of the books)<p>

She fumbled with the lock for a moment before swinging the door open. Three girls grouped together outside her door, this time there were.

"Hey guys." She smiled still blinking the last traces of sleep out of her eyes and unconsciously brushing her mess of hair away from her face, again.

"Hey you look slightly better." Lola teased. "Can we put this stuff in the kitchen for you? We will be really quiet so as not to disturb Sam."

"Sure." Jess eyed the dished hungrily as her stomach rolled hungrily.

"Hey it's good to see you even if you do look like someone out of "Walking Dead" and I am not talking about Beth Greene – although your hot enough, you don't look alive enough."

"Hey thank Sylvie." Jess laughed confused. Sam and she didn't watch Walking Dead… Apparently he didn't like Zombie stories.

"I agree, though I would say you are much prettier than any of the characters on that show, even if you do currently look like a zombie." The third member poked at Jess's shoulder. Lola rolled her eyes. Nerds and their fandoms – Unbelievable! "Did you know that Sylvie is writing a "Walking Dead fanfiction for the nerd club? Apparently she thinks she can retell the story better than the actual show writers."

Sylvie grinned. "Of course I can. No one knows a fandom like the fans do. And more often than not, the writers forget things or miss perfect opportunities." She argued lightly.

"Anyway," Lola said nudging past Jess and setting her burden down on the counter. "We brought fruit and salad, a casserole for breakfast tomorrow, Sylvie has the coffee and juice, Danielle has the dinner – wild rice and sausage, and we have apple pie for dessert and ice cream. I also through in a bottle of Tylenol in case you were running low."

"Thanks girls." Jess said with all her heart. "You are such wonderful friends." She gave them each a hug and locked the door behind them. Now to check on the boys.

Again she made her way to the bed room and opened the door. Via the light pouring in from the living room and the bathroom (that hadn't been on earlier,) she could make out two shapes pressed together on the bed. As Jess crept closer, she became aware of twin green slits reflecting the light at her like glittering emeralds. Dean was stretched out on the bed next to a sleeping Sam, who was dressed in his brother's well-worn, soft, "Deep Purple" shirt. Sam was cocooned from the waist down in their fuzziest blanket and looked much more comfortable then he had looked earlier. His face where it rested on Dean's shoulder, seemed to have reclaimed some of its healthy color. They were perfectly still, aside from the steady rise and fall of their chests moving in tandem and the equally steady movements of Dean's fingers threading through Sam's long curling hair. Sam's fingers were twisted loosely in Dean's shirt on his chest. He was drooling peacefully into his brother's shoulder, and Dean didn't seem to mind in the least.

Jess was so completely caught up in the picture that she didn't dare open her mouth and spoil it.

"Heard voices." Dean's whisper floated to her after a bit. He rolled his face away from Sam's hair and looked directly up at her.

"Friends. They brought dinner. Do you want to eat? It's nine pm." Jess whispered back.

"Yes and no. Yes, I wanna eat; no, I don't want to get up." Dean retorted.

_I don't blame you. _She replied in her head. _If I was you, I would never move again. He looks more relaxed than he has looked ever. _Jess grinned but didn't voice her thoughts, instead she replied. "He looks like a great big baby."

"He IS a great big baby." Dean replied still just as softly as before, somehow he managed to work fond annoyance into a whisper. Jess was suitably impressed. "He just tries to look mature part of the time." Dean finished flashing her a cheeky smirk. "I'll grab a quick shower and meet you for dinner."

"Okay. Towels are under the sink."

"Yeah, I found them earlier. Thanks."

"You too." Jess replied heart-fully.

Dean carefully extracted himself from Sam's grasp and settled him against a pillow instead. Sam's face scrunched up in displeasure and his fingers tightened in Dean's shirt. "Sleep fuzz-ball." Dean whispered to the drooling monkey of a brother. He carded his fingers through Sam's hair and gently pealed his fingers loose. Sam tossed against the pillow. " 'ean." He muttered without waking.

"Still here, Sammy." Dean replied still brushing back Sam's hair. "Jess is here too. You gonna say hi?"

"J'ss." Sam sounded almost confused.

Jess smiled and bent over the bed pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead. "Hey Baby." Her fingers replaces Dean's as he backed. She waited, just until Sam settled down and Dean returned with a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, before she headed out to prep the already prepped dinner.

When Dean appeared a few minutes later, his damp hair was trying to decide whether it wanted to cling to his head or stick up in spiky tufts – it seemed to have settled on a little of both. He was wearing grey sweats and a Metallica T and seemed perfectly relaxed.

"So, this is dinner, serve yourself however much you want. I doubt there will be a shortage. People will be bringing me food now until we come out of hibernation I am sure. There is fruit." She laughed at look on Dean's face. "Ok so I won't bother waiting time pointing out the salad. And I have pie for AFTER dinner." She laughed again stressing the last part when Dean's smile threatened to swallow his face whole. "They brought juice and coffee, but I have beer in the fridge if you want."

"Beer sounds great." Dean proceeded to load his plate so full she wondered how long it had been since the last time he had eaten.

Dinner took place on the couch.

So did beer and pie, which Dean insisted on eating at the same time. Jess had a generous slice and Dean helped himself to the entire pie pan that was left.

"My word, where do you put all that food?" Jess laughed at last after he had eaten half the casserole and the remaining three-fourths of the pie with ice cream. "And here I was thinking so one could out eat Sam, that is, when he wants to eat."

"Hah! Sam eats like a bird." Dean snarked around a mouthful of pie.

He pushed away the empty dish, washed everything down with a few swigs of beer, and turned to look at Jess thoughtfully.

"You know," she whispered to the dim room without meeting his eyes. "I was so nervous to meet you. I mean I have been in contact with you for months, but the thought of you being here in person. I was so worried you wouldn't approve of me."

"Sweetheart, if I didn't approve of you, I would have kicked you out before you moved in." Dean's smile was contagious despite his words. "Anyway, you proved your metal when you stayed steady at his side despite the fever-induced-delirious-murder attempt." Dean finished his beer and popped open another without hesitation.

"Beer, pie, enough food to feed an army, sarcasm – you're nothing like I pictured. You're exactly the opposite of how Sam usually is."

Dean's eyes darkened familiarly, and she suddenly knew she was wrong, they were far more alike than she could possibly comprehend.

"What happened between you two?"

"An argument." Dean replied to quickly and she instantly knew that wasn't all. She was getting a psychology degree and she could almost see his mental walls slamming back up into place. She quickly decided to back off. Whoever and whatever the argument was, it probably wasn't between them and it probably wasn't the cause of the separation.

"Must've been one hell of an argument to keep you two away from each other. He talks about you as if you were the sun itself sometimes. Only when he thinks I'm not listening, though. Mostly when he is petting the stupid cat."

"Cat?" Dean's surprise was as obvious as the pain of the reminder that Sam cared but didn't call.

"Yeah." She felt her heart soften towards the man beside her as emotions danced lightly through his eyes. "It's a stray. He told me the story about Raggedy Ann, so now we call it Raggedy Andy. Andy knows more about you than anyone. When Sam gets in a funk, sometimes he'll sit on the landing outside door and pet the cat and talk about Dean."

Dean looked down at his hands but she could see the glint of tears in his eyes. "I miss him." He murmured and knocked back the rest of his beer. "Not the cat, I miss Sam." Apparently he had no trouble holding his liquor, Jess decided, he was already on his fourth beer for the night on top of the Jim Bean he had found and talked her into a few shots.

She knew why he was doing it. He was getting her to drink with him, the stress of Sam's sickness had tensed her up, and he was simply helping her unwind as well. Not to mention that fact that he was there with his brother and Sam wasn't even going to remember. She was just starting into her third beer, she could already feel the buzz coming. It felt good, and since he was still drinking, she kept drinking with him.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a car mechanic." He replied as if programed.

"That's awesome." She replied despite the obvious lack of information. "I think I remember Sam telling Andy something like that. You're a great brother, Dean. I don't have any brothers, I have two older sisters and two younger sisters, and a slue of brothers-in-law now but no brothers. I always wondered what it was like."

"Ya well, I'm crappy at it, obviously, or he wouldn't have left." Dean was starting to slur slightly as he popped his fifth beer and his eyes betrayed his discomfort at where this conversation was going.

Jess almost stopped there, but she couldn't. He was here now, and he couldn't just hang up on her, so she pushed her luck to make him listen. Settling her shoulder against his, she continued. "I don't think so. You drove three hours at the drop of a hat to nurse your sick little brother back to health. Plus, you dodged a bullet aimed at your head, peeled him off the floor in his sweaty delirium, and calmed him down fasted than I have ever been able too." Jess sat up and turned to face Dean lifting his chin until he was looking directly at her. "I know he loves you, and that's what counts." Gently she leaned over and kissed his forehead. He made no motion either of acceptance or rejection of her words. Her deft hands prodded gently at his shoulder before she let them drift to twist his short sandy hair between her fingers.

"He has you now." Dean mumbled at last still not looking at her.

"But he will always need you in a way he will never need me. I don't understand it, I never will." She replied "But I do accept it now."

Dean didn't look completely convinced when he left her on the couch to take the dishes to the kitchen.

"You should get some more sleep. Sam's fever is definitely broken but he is still pretty out of it. I also have his gun right now, so you can go in there if you want without any fear of attack." Dean said from somewhere inside the dishwasher. His attempt at humor fell flat on her ears.

"No, I'm good on the couch for one more night." Jess replied. "You take care of your brother." Dean abruptly reappeared in her line of sight. His face was an odd mixture of uncertainty and thanks. But without a word, he vanished into the bedroom.

Jess smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. Life was going to be alright. Sam was going to be okay. And Someday, perhaps, even Dean would be okay. But she doubted that either one of them would be completely okay without the other.

* * *

><p>"Jess?"<p>

Jess fairly shot off the couch at Sam's garbled voice. "Wha're you doing on the couch?"

_Sleeping, duh. Where's Dean? Why are you up? _All that she managed to say, however, was "Hey Baby, how are you feeling?"

"Crappy, like I got put through a ringer." He grimaced at the lights and rubbed his head with a pale trembling hand. "What happened?"

"You were sick babe." Jess fumbled her way around the spotless living room still trying to reconcile it with the book wrecked, crumb-covered, beer bottle infested pit from the night before. Then she came to a dead halt. There was no bag dropped haphazardly on the ground by the couch. Sam was wearing an apparently freshly washed, skillfully patched, Def Leppard t-shirt…

Dean was gone.

She knew it without even needing to look. Of course he was gone. Dean was like that. Once again, he had hung up the phone before she could say goodbye.

"Hey you kay?" Sam's gentle touch startled her. So did the worried expression in his searching chocolaty eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just suddenly hit by the weight of the past five days. You look great, baby." She kissed him long and hard hoping to distract him from her fumbling confused hurt.

"I think I was delirious, did I try to shoot you?" Sam mumbled, turning a bright shade of embarrassment, as he picked at the new stitches that were patching his shirt.

"Yeah." She laughed. "You tried, but you thankfully didn't. I escaped too quickly for that."

"I'm really sorry, Jess." His empty hands were clenching and unclenching at his side.

"Don't worry, it's all good." She soothed easily.

"I guess even delirious I wasn't really trying, you would probably be dead if I had." He murmured. Jess could read between his words; _How did you survive me trying to kill you? Who helped?_

"Maybe you're not that good when you're flopping like a fish out of water." Jess teased.

Sam fidgeted uneasily in front of her. A question was obviously on the tip of his tongue, but it was a full five minutes before he finally blurted it out.

"Was my brother here?" His eyes jumped desperately, looking everywhere but at her and she was insanely grateful, she wasn't certain her poker face could stand up to his scrutiny.

"You never told me you had a brother." She said putting what she hoped was the right amount of surprise into her voice. "I think you might be delirious still." She laughed.

He shrugged her hands off his shoulder and his eyes met hers. "Dean. Dean is my brother, and I could have sworn he was here. I know I didn't dream it. I couldn't have dreamed it, the pillow even smells like him!"

"Baby, I would have known if someone was here." Jess argued softly. She desperately hoped he couldn't see her hammering heart.

"Did you fix my shirt?" he asked pointedly.

"No." Jess answered easily. _You should tell him, Jess. Let him believe that perhaps his brother forgives him, that they can repair this broken relationship. He wants it so bad. They both want it. Don't tell him all you know, just let him wonder._

"Then who did?" Sam asked several minutes later when she gracefully dumped him on the bed fever soaked bed where the scent of Dean still lingered.

"I don't know baby, you pulled your gun and I fled the room, when I came back the next day, your fever was broken and you were asleep in bed." It wasn't all the truth, but it wasn't a lie either making it easier to play a poker face.

Sam eyed her thoughtfully trying to see what she was hiding – if she was hiding anything. "No one came through the door?"

"It was locked baby. I was on the couch I would have woken up. I did wake up when friends brought food. You scared me pretty bad with the gun, I wasn't going to let just anyone through the door."

Sam's eyes drifted to the window and a small smile graced his lips. Hope poured into his eyes lighting them up with curious wonder even as she watched before his kissed her lips. "I'm really sorry for scaring you. Next time I'll put the gun away if I think I'm getting sick." (Not that Jess actually believed that…) "I'm starved babe. Breakfast?"

"In the kitchen." She replied "Stay here and I'll bring you some."

There was no sign of Dean in the kitchen either, she doubted there would be, but still, it kinda hurt. That is, until she almost doubled over in laughter when she realized the basket on the counter was several fruits poorer then it had been the night before. Dean. Fruit. Hilarious!

Sam was unnerved by her laughter when she returned but she brushed his inquiry off with something about Lola's and Sylvie's love of jokes.

When Sam sacked out for a nap that afternoon (still exhausted from his run with a killer fever), Jess settled down on the couch and tapped Mac's number.

"Hey Dean. It's Jess. You left. I mean obviously, you know that, but still. I think I understand why, I wish you could have seen Sam's face though. He was so sure he hadn't dreamed you. He was SO sure, and I just couldn't break his heart. I told him that I had crashed in the living room and the next day, he was in bed and his shirt was mended – which was really sweet of you by the way. He looked so hopeful at the thought that maybe you had come. Please Dean. Let him back into your life for both your sakes. But until then, mums the word. Thank you so, so much. Take care of yourself, I'll take care of Sam while you're gone." That was so chick-flicky she was pretty sure it would take Dean five tries at least to get all the way through it.

She clicked off the phone and sat back. This time she knew he wouldn't call her back. That hurt too. But she did understand, she understood the moment she had seen them together on the floor, they loved each other, but they were broken. It would take time. She could live with that. She could give them time and love them both in the meanwhile. Jess smiled.

She could wait on her broken men.

* * *

><p><strong>That's all for now folks! I hope you liked it!<strong>

**I'll be posting another chapter within the next six days. (I try my very hardest not to go longer than six days.)**

**Review Lovies, review. It is all the payment we writers desire.**

**~Kiliana**


	9. Moment in Time

Sorry friends. I know I try to post every six days or so. I haven't finished fixing the next chapter (I wrote a few but need to fill in some space and time gaps before I post them... oops.) I'll post again here is a day or three when I fit writing in around the holiday. Happy thanksgiving (Oh YEAH! I'm going to write a thanksgiving special...) thanks lovies.

~Kiliana

* * *

><p><em>"Oh Sammy, You're such a lovely boy! Thank you so much for the roses!" she had been fairly glowing when she woke up to a romantically inclined boyfriend one random morning. <em>

_"Just thinking of you, baby." He had laughed and kissed her passionately. _

_"Why, what happened, why are you buttering me up." She was half-serious, half-joking – well, okay more worried than she hoped she was letting on._

_"Nothing baby, you just have been really down for the past few days, midterms are wearing you out more than usual. I figured I would lighten up your day."_

_Jess had laughed and scrambled into his arms. "I love you, Sam." She said without really thinking._

_"I love you more, sweetheart." He replied. Suddenly Dean's gravelly voice that had been lacking from her life for over four weeks, rang crystal clear through her head. "Sweetheart." Only Dean called her sweetheart. _

_Jess drew sharply back away from Sam, her face looked confused and almost hurt. He was most assuredly confused. "Why did you call me that? You never call me that, only D-" she stuttered to a stop and gaped at him like a fish for a full minute._

_"What?" he asked caught off guard. "What'd I do?" God help the poor man, he sounded scared._

_Jess couldn't help it. She had almost let it slip, her secret – the one and only – she knew his brother. And she missed him. Oh she missed her big brother. She had called him twice and he hadn't called back. Jess felt her gut clench and wracking sobs forced themselves around the lump in her throat. Collapsing into his arms she sobbed and sobbed, headless of his terrified frantic pleas for clarity. _

_"Don't hate me, I'm sorry. whtatdidIdo? whatdidIsay? –" Sam was on repeat but she couldn't answer._

_When at last she cried every tear in her body into Sam's collared shirt. She answered him in a small voice. "Please don't call me Sweetheart, and I won't call you Sammy. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." It was wretched. Truly wretched that they only names they refused to use – the only names they couldn't stand – where endearments from the same man. They were names only he could use. What a world. What a wretched world. And surprise, I guess I'm not out of tears after all, she decided and burst into a fresh round._

Sam never asked, she never said. The snafu that morning went into the closet along with the mended shirt, and the name Dean. It was never spoken of, but never forgotten.

"Hey, its Jess. PLEASE PLEASE call me! I'm freaking out and I had a melt-down on your unsuspecting brother this morning. Dean, please call. Oh dean... Now it me sitting around all nostalgic cuddling with that terrible faded T-shirt while your brother is at class. But ya I know, no chick-flick. I get it. You could let me know if your alive... bye Dean."

* * *

><p>Short I know, Don't give up on me.<p>

~Kiliana


	10. Thanksgiving

As promised a Thanksgiving special. And you can **all blame IdreamofIvan for the delay** in the continuing story…I had to do some rewriting. (Everyone join me on this: Thank you IdreamofIvan) Complain all you want. If you want a hint, go read the reviews from IdreamofIvan and try to figure out just what I might be adding. Ha! Chew on that one for a while.

Happy Thanksgiving people. I decided to just throw this story in, out of the blue, and spent last night writing it. I hope you like it!

I responded to your reviews at the bottom by the way, threw in a spoiler or two…

~Kiliana

* * *

><p>Jess squawked and slapped Sam with the dirty spatula. "What the hell!" she laughed, doubling over in his arms while he continued to tickle her despite the cookie dough smear on his previously clean polo.<p>

"Happy Thanksgiving. I half expected you to still be asleep when I got home." He laughed releasing her and lounging his considerable length of body against the counter. "Mmmmmm." He swiped a generous finger-full of whipped-topping off the nearest pie and earned another slap and a healthy scolding. "Out of the kitchen you monster." Jess shoved at him – albeit kindly – and herded the giant first grader out. "Leave my pies alone. They are for the party tonight."

"But Jess, can't I eat one now." He whined still first grader worthy, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "They would never know and what they don't know can't hurt them." He almost cringed at how wrong that sounded knowing what he grew up doing, but he just as quickly shoved that thought away – no reason to spoil the holiday.

"Shut it, Babe! I need four pies and you just helped yourself to the prettiest. No cookies for you 'til later." She flounced her way back to the kitchen and plopped herself stubbornly between her boy and the pies and cookies, bread, and fruit salad, and… Sam's brain stopped working, over-whelmed by the sheer deliciousness before him.

"Not fair." He grumbled.

He got his cookie.

Jess was like putty in his hands.

Putty with a spatula covered in cookie dough.

After his stolen delicacy, he had to get a shower… but it was worth it.

And, the party was still a success even one cookie short (proving Sam's point that Jess didn't know anything about cookies other them how to cook them perfectly).

The pies were also a success, including the one that Sam swiped whole and downed by himself in a corner, safe from prying grubby fingers. _In honor of you brother! _He cheered in his head before digging into the whole pie with a spoon.

There was plenty of laughing and drinking and merry making and eating and staggering and stumbling and running into things on the way home.

Sam dropped haphazardly onto the couch that night as Jess settled the wobbly stack of pie pans and bowls in the sink.

"Happy Thanksgiving." He offered with a smile when she joined him, offering him a large glass of water.

"You too." She whispered back. "Best Thanksgiving I think I have ever had."

Sam smiled, eyes darkening with memory for a moment. "Yeah," he agreed unconvincingly.

"Uh, huh. I'll believe that when the cows fly home. Spill baby. It's not like your brother is that big of a secret anymore and I am just dying to hear a story." Jess teased poking him in the arm.

Sam chuckled and flinched away. "Whatever, you probably would think it's dumb anyway."

"Try me." Jess dared. Dean was certainly not dumb as for as she was concerned – not that she could actually say as much without raising questions.

"Fine. Well I think I was eight and Dean was twelve. Dad was gone on a business trip and Dean intended to give us a Thanksgiving if it killed him, despite the fact that we were in some god-forsaken motel room in an equally god-forsaken town in the middle of Tennessee."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sat back staring at the wall. "Damn, that was a long time ago. Come to think of it, it actually did almost kill him."

"What happened?" Jess asked prying as gently as her curiosity would allow.

"I don't remember how he did it, but we had a real turkey. It was the first time ever that I actually had real turkey. It was amazing! And Dean just about burned the motel down cooking it. Oh but it was good."

Sam eyed Jess thoughtfully for a moment deciding where to begin the story. "So Dean decided to barbeque us a turkey, he must have swiped the turkey somewhere and the barbeque sauce but we didn't have a pan to cook it in when he was getting ready that afternoon, so he figured he might as well use a cardboard box."

"Oh no, did he do it?" Jess asked horrified, trying not to laugh at the idea of cooking in cardboard.

"Yep. He fished one out from behind the liquor store. Our turkey smelled funny after sitting in that."

"Gross."

"No, it gets better. So he got us a pie and some soda, and this half frozen turkey and barbeque and brings it all back in this half crushed box – I swear he is a much better cook now then he used to be, he can whip up a killer casserole in no time flat, but, back to the story – so the turkey goes into the box and he drenches the thing in sauce. He didn't even clean it or anything. You know, in hindsight, I'm really surprised we didn't die from that meal."

"This sounds like the thanksgiving horror story of the century."

"Nah, of the millennium." Sam agreed with a fond smile at the terrible history. "Then, for good measure, he fishes out – from who knows where – one of Dad's whiskey bottles and pours a generous helping onto the poor bird as well. I am sure who ever packaged the thing for the market wouldn't have butchered it if he had known what my brother was going to do to it."

Jess seemed to agree if her facial expressions were anything to go by.

"Anyway. Since he had no idea how hot to cook it, Dean turns the oven on to 400 and waits for it to heat up. The box was soggy by the time he slopped it into the oven. He burned himself several times in the process. I am pretty sure the only reason the box didn't catch fire right away was because of all the barbeque sauce on it. It caught pretty fast in the end, though. Before we know it there were giant flames filling the oven. You know how in cartoons the oven door rattles and there are flames with angry faces on them shooting out from around the door? It was basically just like that. And Dean was cussing like a sailor the whole time – I know my dad would not have been pleased had he been there but I was way too scared to be properly shocked. So Dean opens the oven door, dodging the flames, and reaches in with his bare hands and pulls the flaming cardboard remains out of the oven, setting fire to the oven mitts, three towel, and to the floor in the process. It is pretty funny in hind sight. There was my brother stomping on burning linoleum and using already burning towels to try and smother the fire while I was perched on the counter screaming my lungs out."

"Oh my word! Were you both okay?" Jess asked not sure whether to be horrified or amused at the story.

Oh I was fine, Dean got the fire out and closed the oven door. After that he pulled the rug by the door to cover the huge melted glob of linoleum floor before he even felt his hands. They were burned almost to blistering all the way to his elbows and his face was pretty singed too. Since Dad was gone we couldn't exactly go to the hospital without getting in trouble with CPS so I lathered his arms with whatever cream I could find in the house and wrapped them up really good. He was in agony, but he finished Dad's whiskey and felt much better." Sam grinned at Jess sheepishly.

"Oh I bet. What kind of a father leaves his children in a motel alone on Thanksgiving." Jess felt suddenly rankled, and not only for Sam's sake. She felt a little possessive about both boys if she was completely honest with herself and it physically hurt to think of her Dean burning his arms severely trying to give his brother a decent Thanksgiving while her little Sam had to wrap the burns by himself.

"My kind of a father." Sam rushed over the words, grimaced at a memory, and plunged back into his story. "So Dean had to instruct me how to prep the pie, and I set the table and about two hours later Dean fished the turkey out of the oven, oven rack and all. (I had to redo his bandaging later, stubborn idiot.) He dropped the turkey right on the counter, which had the rack shape melted into it after – but we never talked about that… It was the best damn turkey I have ever eaten, Jess!" Sam sat back and laughed.

"The skin was so tough it took my brother twenty minutes hacking and tearing at it to get to the meat, but the meat was so good and juicy and tender and bursting with flavor. Neither of us had ever had turkey before. Oh, it was _so_ good! The pie was half flopped, the soda was room temperature, and we were eating a turkey cooked in a cardboard box. Dean had burned every kitchen towel and oven mitt, melted the floor and the counter, caked the inside of the oven with black ash and goop, and his arms were wrapped to the elbows: but, it was the best Thanksgiving dinner of my life. We did have to leave the windows open for the duration of our stay, though, because the stench was so bad."

Both Jess and Sam were laughing heartily at the story, and both were nursing a slight hatred for the absent father and admiration for the older brother.

"But Dean, his hands were okay right?" Jess asked suddenly unable to recall whether or not Dean's hands seemed injured when she had met him.

"Oh yeah. Dean's as tough as nails. It takes an act of god to knock that stubborn idiot off his feet." Sam chuckled and drained the last of his water setting the glass down heavily. "Sometimes I miss him really bad, and other times, I'm just really glad I don't have to clean up the inevitable disasters that follow him around. Although, I am afraid that if I don't, no one will and one of these days I'm gonna get a call because he killed himself cooking a damn turkey." Sam snorted wryly trying to hide the sudden panic in his eyes.

Jess frowned. _Oh Dean. Why won't you just call me? We worry for a reason…both of us worry._

Sam shook himself and stood up. "Anyway, I told _way _more of that story then I intended and I am going to have the mother of all headaches tomorrow morning, so I am going to crash." …and crash he did.

Jess crept out into the landing and flipped open her phone.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Beep.

_Oh yeah, big surprise there. _"Hey, it's Jess. You _could _call me and let me know you're alright. I would hate to find out you killed yourself cooking turkey which I discovered is a legitimate possibility tonight. Seriously, what kind of idiot cooks in a cardboard box? I was thoroughly amused and you will be surprised to hear that Sam willingly shared the memory with me, of his own accord, I didn't even have to threaten. I know, I think I even saw a cow flying past the window… He misses you. So do I... …But really? You almost burned down a motel with a turkey. That's impressive! Anyway, if you don't call, Happy Thanksgiving Dear. Sam and I love you – don't roll your eyes because it is true, he does – and I hope you call one of these days."

Jess clicked the phone shut and glanced up at the crescent moon. "Dean." She breathed. "Please be okay."

* * *

><p>Til next time.<p>

The next chapter is almost complete and I will be posting it early next week at the latest. Stay tuned for more: Next up – Dean gets his turn being the hurt one. Because who doesn't like to beat on the poor boys a little (okay a lot but shhhh...) anyone want to throw in a few prompts?

I have a REALLY nice "Hurt!Dean" coming, then a "fainting!Sam", oh and heads up for some more characters… one in particular who I am very fond of, and you can probably solve this riddle if I say, Dean and Sam and ..., and you check out my history of favorite people to write about...

Shoot me an idea and I'll see what I can do with it.

**CatishAngel07**: Let's just say I have plans… if I say too much, no one will keep reading… however, you tell me, would you continue to read to story if I veered off of the canon or not? I am not saying that I will, but I might…

**Chrisbcritter73**: I basically bang my head against the wall all the time over the sheer amount of stupidity they do to hold onto their macho card and to avoid being "chick-flick"… That said, this story is not solely Dean and Jess interacting. I do have some Dean and Sam interacting coming up soon.

**Thoughts? Comment? Reviews?** Bring it on lovies, little sickly me and my little sickly muse are hungry (and spending a ton of time writing )

~Kiliana.

**Happy Thanksgiving Folks!**


	11. Smoke on the Water (part 1)

Yeah!** part one of a building three parter... maybe more**. It's crazy long already. I'll hopefully be able to post with more regularity for the near future. So, I need some help. I have a pretty good idea of where I am taking this story, but I am going to ask you a question for opinions at the bottom. Thanks!

**IdreamofIvan**: I think you are going to like this arc. Yes it is all your fault, but it is a good thing. However, the biggest thing I had to change from own of your comments is in chapter part two of this story-line. and a worried/over-worked/stressed Sam is really fun. (coming soon on Sam's Brother...)

**Cindar**: Thank you for the feed back. I too like to send their poor lives to hell... I think it is a good thing I don't write the TV show... they die enough as it is.

**CatishAngel07**: EEK! Thank you so much! you make me soooo happy. I'm so glad you like it! I really am. Poor Jess won't be able to breath she is going to be so buried in their family drama.

**Wynjara**: Haven't we all. I basically took the worst cook experience in my life and exaggerated it like crazy. I put a hot dog on my Dad's grill in a cardboard box once when I was little and it caught fire, he didn't notice because my uncle was talking to him... yeah and burning the floor... done that. Haha I just love the idea of a twelve-year-old who has literally never cooked or eaten a home-cooked meal since he was four (which is REALLY sad) cooking a full thanksgiving meal.

**Dean's Worshiper:** I am SO glad you reviewed. I love it when you review because you always read the update so fast that while I am chewing my fingernails over the recent update, I see your review and I am sooo happy.

Anyway, I love writing Jess... she is so much fun!.. Enjoy lovies!

~Kiliana

* * *

><p>Jess couldn't take it any longer, she was going crazy with worry. It had been two months since she had called begging for help. Two month since he had shown up in their home just to vanish like a wraith. Two months since the light of hope that they could reconcile had been lit in her heart. Two months and not a word. She didn't even pause long enough to feel bad for calling for a seventh – or maybe a zillionth – time, she hadn't really kept track of how many times she had called him since.<p>

The phone rang, once. Twice.

"Hello." A gruff completely unfamiliar voice growled out tersely.

"Wha – wh – who is this?" Jess stuttered blinking at the display to reread the number.

"Look lady, I'm sorry the boy left you hanging, deal with it. It's over, done, and now is REALLY not a good time you idjit, so get off the damn phone and don't call back." The line when dead. Jess stared in shock at the phone. No way. What the HELL just happened.

She checked the number, then double checked the number. With a huff she hit call.

"WHAT DID I SAY!" the voice almost yelled.

"Hey listen up, ass!" Jess started, surprising even herself with her voice tone. "I don't know who the Hell you are, but you had better put Dean Bloody Winchester on the damn phone or I swear I will kick your ass to Canada – and back!"

There was a rather impressively pregnant pause.

"How are you?"

"I'm his seester!" she drawled. "I'm Smoke on the Water." She added Dean's I'm a friend code word for good measure just in case it worked. "And I am calling Dean. Put him on the bloody phone you bloody idiot." The silence that greeted her was incredibly rewarding is a twisted Dean-ish way.

"Whhhhaaaaat?" the other voice finally croaked. "Alright, you know him. I'll give ya that and I'll listen."

"Yeah, like hell you will. Who are you? Where is Dean?"

"I'm Bobby, and you _are_ going through me to get to Dean. Is that clear, girl!?"

"Crystal." Jess snapped, "I'm Jess. I'm his brother's girlfriend. Now let me talk to Dean."

"Jess?" The bobby dude sounded incredulous. "Bloody Hell! Did Sam tell you to call…"

"No. The stubborn idiots won't pick of their stupid phones and call each other. They would rather waste away wishing things would change. I met Dean about a year ago, via Sam's contact list. Sam doesn't know I know Dean. And it is going to stay that way."

"Jess." Bobby sounded like he wanted to laugh and cry and do neither because it was too "chick-flicky" – so – definitely an acquaintance of the Winchesters. "I can't believe it. I am now perfectly satisfied that Sam knows what he is doing. Stupid idjit got at least one thing right." He sounded almost fatherly.

Jess felt her anger bleed as he spoke, and it left her feeling worried – bone weary and worried. "What happened Bobby? Is Dean okay!"

The pause that followed was too long. Much too long. Jess's heart plummeted into her gut and froze.

"Don't you dare lie to me Bobby, I get enough of that from Dean and Sam. You tell me the truth damn it!" her voice was quivering so hard it certainly ruined her tough girl act so she dropped it completely. "Oh please tell me he is alive, he is ok." She squeaked

Jess felt herself slowly crumble to the floor as Bobby finally answered her question.

"He is alive. Barely. He's here in the hospital. They put him in an induced coma when he became violent without actually waking up. He was ripping needles and stitches out. He was completely delirious and not even awake." Bobby took a deep breath, more to steady the shaking sniffling girl hidden from his sight on the other end of the phone.

"What happened?"

"He was attacked. He went hunting and the rangers found him the next morning almost dead at the bottom of a ravine. They are saying it looked like a bear shredded his chest broke several ribs and his left arm and collarbone, his cheekbone is also fractured from when he hit the ground or something. Internal bleeding wasn't bad enough to kill him over night, but he did land on a tree branch and impaled it… Jess you don't really what to know all this?"

"Impaled it through what? Please I need to know."

"Through his chest. Collapsed his left lung – branch staunched the flow until they found him. Jess, it aint perdy. He has a fifty-fifty chance at the best."

"How… how long has he…" Jess stammered. "I mean I-I-I… He didn't-hasn't answered the phone. Please tell me it-"

"Yesterday, Jess. He got mauled yesterday afternoon. He has been stable since this morning at three."

"Then where has he been for the past two months?" Jess asked quietly.

"Out of service on a special job for the first month, laid up with a couple of cracked ribs for a few weeks, and then this hunting trip." Bobby replied calmly.

"He didn't answer." Jess stammered.

"He didn't know what to say." Bobby replied.

"Where… Where is he?" Jess struggled to make her voice stop shaking.

"St. Peter's hospital in Helena Montana." Bobby replied. "Don't come. You don't need to come."

"Yes – yes I do Bobby. He is all the brother I have. I'm coming. I'll be there tonight." She hung up the phone and dropped it bonelessly into her lap. After a moment it rang again. _Oh no. Please nothing bad…_

"Bob-hy?" she hiccupped.

"His name is Dean White when you ask for his room."

"Thanks." She replied numbly. The phone dropped from her fingers. Why couldn't she stop shaking? It seemed like an eternity before Sam's keys scraped at the lock.

"Hey Babe, I'm back. How are you?... Jess, what is wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Who is hurt? Oh Baby, you need to lay down, Jess what-" Sam was ramping up into full blown mother-hen-mode.

"Stoh-hop. Please." She begged pushing away slightly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I just got a call that my – my." She hand covered her mouth as she started to cry again. "One of m-my best friends is in the hos-hospital and m-m-might be die-ing." She cried. "I'm flying out tonight."

"I'm coming with you." Sam said softly pulling her into his chest.

"No baby, don't. Please, we can't afford two trips, you don't even know her. I'll be fine. I'll be back in a couple days, and I'll call." Jess replied scrubbing a hand over her face and pasting on her bravest smile.

Sam didn't like it, but Jess begged and he agreed. He put her on the next flight out at six. She waved a teary goodbye and turned away. Sam was torn between buying his own ticket and chasing her down and letting her go alone as she seemed to want. In the end, he slowly turned away.

Three hours later Jess found herself standing outside the ICU at St. Peter's hospital.

"Yes, as I already explained to this lady over here, I'm here to see Dean White. He is my brother." He explained.

"I'm sorry ma'am. But visiting hours are over for anyone other than family, and you don't have the same last name."

"Seriously. I don't need to put up with this shit." She exclaimed throwing her hands in exasperation.

"Is there a problem ma'am?" _Security. Just great. Just what I needed._

"Yes sir, these ladies would let me see my brother who is in the ICU. Look, I'm calling Bobby." She glared at the guard daring him to interrupt her call, he must have figured the possibility of her actually being a pissed-off sister overrode the need to toss her out.

The phone rang only once this time. "Jess." Bobby answered Dean's phone.

"Bobby. These lousy people won't let me in to see my brother!" she exclaimed vehemently.

"One moment, hang tight." He replied and hung up.

She did just that. And one very long moment later, a nurse came to get her. "Right this way Jess."

With every step her heart sank further – with every breath her hands shook even harder. _Damn I feel as nervous as I did the first time I met him. Get a grip Jess. Oh God please don't let him die. Let him be okay please._

Dean looked far worse than she could have possibly imagined. His expressive, vibrant face had hollowed and was whiter than the pillow. Dirty blonde hair rested limply along his brow and four days-worth of scruff darkened his freckled face. The dark smudges around his eyes matched the thick mottled bruising and four inches of stitches on the left side of his face. He was intubated, had a line down his nose, and electric leads along his scalp. "Oh Dean!" Jess gasped in horror.

Jess quickly let her eyes take in the rest. Left arm was securely plastered and rested on the bed beside him. His collarbone was wrapped and bandages swathed his chest. White against his white skin, popping out the bruises and blood in a vivid watercolor of black, purple, and green. Jess almost gagged at the tube that appeared to be inserted into the left side of Dean's chest – she didn't even want to know. His right arm rested cold and limp across his stomach. It was bristling with all the needles that couldn't fit in the other heavily bandaged arm.

It was only after she had stood in shock for – perhaps – say – a day, that she remembered about Bobby. He was standing on the far side of the bed and simply watching her. His gruff appearance seemed wilted with sorrow and worry. Haggard and weary with grief and worry, he looked almost as bad as Dean.

"Bobby." She whispered after a few minutes. He nodded in confirmation of her guess. "Can – can I have some time. Alone. With Dean?"

Bobby stepped towards her and ran a hand through his beard.

"You weren't joking girl. You said tonight, I didn't really believe you. You must really like this here idjit." Despite the growl and rough blunt drawl, she could clearly pick the fond love and anguish masked behind his tired mask. She let him take her in, smart knee-high boots over her jeans and a loose dark blue long sleeved shirt with an animal print scarf. She certainly looked the high-society from which he certainly thought she came. If it wasn't for her worried honest eyes and fidgeting movements… Bobby's posture relaxed, he was going to trust her for now.

"Yeah." Her face softened into a fond smile as she watched his hackles settle down. "Only ever seen him in person once, but he has a way of making sure he isn't forgotten."

"Yeah, well, I've caught him talking about you once or twice, without names of course. I think he fancies you something of a little sister, so yeah, you can have some time alone. I trust ya." He said and then, as her eyes welled up with gratitude, he quickly tacked on, "Don't you dare say anything. Waterworks and girls. Bloody circus show." he muttered moving past her.

"Bobby. Get some sleep. I'll stay here tonight." Jess called after him not listening for a reply.

Slowly she sank down at Dean's side. A coffee cup materialized out of thin air beside her. She didn't bother finding out how. The warmth from the cup seeped into her hands and up her arms. She wished she could push it through her heart and into his ice cold features.

But for the beeping monitors, he could have been dead.

Jess leaded towards the eerily pale, waxy face. "Hey Dean. It's Jess. Funny, even when I am sitting right beside you I end up going straight to the answering machine… no you're right, it's not funny at all."

She brushed her fingers across his damp brow, careful to avoid any injuries. "I just wanted you to know that you're not alone. I came to see you. I hope you don't mind too much. I figure you're the kinda guy who likes to call the shots on who he meets when and where, but I think you might be glad I'm here."

Jess fingered the chain around her neck and settled back for the night. "I highly doubt Bobby will be gone too long. But I hope he doesn't come back before he gets a few hours of sleep, he looks strung out. I guess you have that effect on people. We drop everything and come running and them worry ourselves sick. But it's not chick-flick silly, it's because we care, and that is what people do when they care. Besides, I am a chick, so I can get away with telling you."

Dean's monitors didn't change, the steady beep, beep, beep carried on in the still room.

Jess fidgeted. "I went to see one of my sisters in the hospital with I was younger. We had to stay the night and I remember my mother sang us all to sleep. My father never let her sing at home, but this was one time that he didn't matter. The song she sang is called "Good Night my Angel," would you like to hear it?" This time the stillness and silence from the bed hit her hard.

"Okay, I'll sing it for you." She whispered. "Good night my angel time to close your eyes, and save the questions for another day…"

The hours passed along with the stars just beyond the window pane. Jess sang to her freckled boy through the night. When she couldn't sing another note, she cried herself to slumber with her head settled against his chilly side. The movements of nursing staff around her was completely unnoticed.

It was around three in the morning before she roused herself thinking first of her aching back.

"You silly, stupid boy." She whispered rubbing her eyes and reorganizing herself in the chair. "Why couldn't you just not get hurt?" It was silly right, for her to be asking that… It's not like he _knew _that he was going to get hurt. Plus, how often did people actually get mauled by bears? No he hadn't actually sought out the danger… but still. "Wake up Dean, please." She wearily eyed the beeping monitors that broadcasted his continuing survival like a play-by-play review.

The beeping monitors… beeping. _SHIT!_

Jess moved faster than she knew was possible. The red button on the wall was too far for her comfort.

"Dean don't you dare! DON'T YOU DARE! You stupid, lovable, clueless, wonderful, helpless, horrible boy! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

The room was swarmed with nurses in the blink of an eye and Jess was "kindly" forced out of the way and out of their minds.

"_Pushing Ativan, in – get him flat – someone call a crash cart – Code red – he isn't breathing – give him a second dose Ativan."_

Jess collapsed against the wall, her eyes glued to the violently seizing body on the bed. The monitors were screaming, red lights blinking announcing the rapidly decaying situation within the pale twitching body.

As fast as it came on, the seizure stopped as the Ativan kicked in.

"_Pulse is thready, intubating now – Call in for a CT and MRI, I need to know what is going on in his head, EKG still shows erratic brain activity – blood pressure is dropping – get him stabilized, we need to go now – He is crashing! Beginning CPR – Administering first shock, Clear – Going to 400 – Clear. – He is back, let's move people. NOW Go – Ron, have the neuro surgeon on call paged immediately."_

The room was a swirl of activity before going blessedly numb and quiet. Jess's coffee was everywhere except her cup, her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't pick up her phone and call Bobby. "Damnit." She curse clumsily reaching for it and spilling the last of her coffee.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" A quiet voice asked.

"hh-hhu? N-n-no! gotta c-call B-Bobby." She stuttered.

"Here, let me, do you have his number?" Jess tried to focus on the nurse's face.

"Yah, it's umm… under M-Mac Roni." She finished. "Inside joke." She added in response to the nurses questioning glance.

The phone rang, once – twice – three time and BEEP.

"Hey this is Dean." Drawled a breathtakingly smooth voice. "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want."

Beep.

Jess broke down into full body sobs.

"B-B-Booby. G-get t-to the h-hos-pital n-now." She drew in a deep breath. It didn't help much. "H-he's in a b-bad way." She numbly hung up the phone and discovered the nurse had left only to return a moment later with a new cup of coffee.

"Have faith sweetheart." She purred. Jess almost wretched at the sound of Dean's voice in her head saying that name. "He is in the hands of the best."

Jess nodded willing herself to believe. The nurse was gone again. Funny how she couldn't seem to remember her going or coming once.

"Sam." She murmured her mind focusing in that single point. "Gotta call Sam."

* * *

><p>Tada!<p>

So the **question** is this. Okay, obviously my entire story up to the point has been very Jess-centric. We listen to the phone conversations from Jess's side. We learn about the boys when Jess learns. We don't see what Dean does with Sam when Jess isn't in the room... you get the idea. So idea is this. I am obviously bringing more characters into the arc. Bobby for one, maybe John. Should I continue with the Jess's view only, or would you like to get the picture from other people's view. **sneak preview:** the option is do you want to see Sam's reaction to what is happening, from Sam's perspective?... Let me know.

Ooooh and I love me a bit of hurt!Dean. :) and I love me a bit of agsty/protective!Sam...

the **song that Jess sings** is a lullaby I like to sing to babies when I put them to sleep. It is not necessarily a song that she would sing, but it was the one her mother sang so she is partial. it is "Good night my angel" by the Celtic Woman, if you want to look it up.

and medical savvy me... Ativan is the drug used in hospitals that is used to stop seizures.

**Thoughts? comments? reviews?**

thanks a ton lovies

~Kiliana


	12. Smoke on the Water (part 2)

Thank you Thank you so much for your reviews. I love the feedback. John or no John? I kinda hate/love their father… Maybe I should just add him in as a phone call and have Jess intercept it. What do you think?

I have to say thank you all for the thoughts about the story again. So far I have heard a lot of both sides (Jess POV or the boy's POV as well) from private messages and from reviews. I've given it a lot of thought, and since I am in the middle of finishing the next chapter, you are all going to find out what I decided very soon.

Now, remember what I said about rewriting, **IdreamofIvan**, I have to give some of the credit of my addition in the first few lines of this chapter to you. I hope you like it because I really do. I think you'll know what I am talking about. I simply loved your idea.

Oh my gosh! I am so happy you are all reading!

~Kiliana

* * *

><p><strong>Then:<strong>

"_B-B-Booby. G-get t-to the h-hos-pital n-now." She drew in a deep breath. It didn't help much. "H-he's in a b-bad way." She numbly hung up the phone and discovered the nurse had left only to return a moment later with a new cup of coffee._

"_Have faith sweetheart." She purred. Jess almost wretched at the sound of Dean's voice in her head saying that name. "He is in the hands of the best."_

_Jess nodded willing herself to believe. The nurse was gone again. Funny how she couldn't seem to remember her going or coming once._

"_Sam." She murmured her mind focusing in that single point. "Gotta call Sam."_

**Now:**

* * *

><p>Barely an hour later, Bobby flung open the hospital door with a dull thud. His eyes quickly took in the empty bed and the shuttering huddle of Jess in one of the rickety hospital chairs.<p>

"Where did they take him?" He asked gruffly.

"CT and MRI." She murmured. "We gotta let Sam know."

Bobby sat down heavily in the chair beside her. It groaned painfully under his weight.

"Here. Ya'll want to see this. I found it before you called." He said handing over Dean's phone.

The cool metal of the device landed heavily in her hand like the rock lodged in the pit of her stomach. More than anything she wished for Sam's presence… no, she wished for Dean's then there would be no problem.

Jess numbly thumbed the button to light up the screen. The display showed a message time stamped from about a month and a half before. Short, simple, succinct;

_I don't know how you knew, but thanks._

The name labeling it read, "Sammy."

Dean hadn't replied.

Big surprise there, right…

Jess smiled bitterly through her tears.

"Dean came to help him through a fever." She explained in a whisper.

"I know. He told me 'bout it fer weeks." Bobby ran a hand over his face. "Idjit." He murmured under his breath. "Kept telling me 'bout Sammy and his awesome girl." He nudged her arm gruffly. "He almost called his brother several times, ya know. But, naw, he closed the phone before it rang each time."

"Why?" Jess exclaimed. "Why be so stubborn, why didn't he just call?"

"Kept saying stuff 'bout how Sammy had found his life and he wasn't gonna mess it up."

Jess laughed again, stronger now, but still bitter. "Damn, stubborn, stupid boys!" she exclaimed.

"Yup. You know, sitting here is going to drive me crazy. I'm gonna go see what I can find out. Wanna come?" Bobby growled. He heaved himself to his feet, joints protesting along with the chair, and stalked into the hall. Jess followed him a mere shadow in his wake.

It may have been four in the morning, but Bobby seemed to have a gift for sniffing people out. He also had a knack for getting them to talk…

The doctor's words washed over her numb mind like warm water – she was aware they were speaking, she knew what they were saying, but she couldn't feel a thing. Not a damn thing. Something about swelling in the skull and a craniotomy and the possibility of irreversible brain damage or death. They had lost him three times on the operating table and his lungs kept seizing. Ventilators and something else.

At some point the doctor said something about calling people to say good bye but he didn't repeat it when Bobby looked ready to bash his face in.

Bobby lead Jess back to a chair somewhere to wait. It was blissfully quiet and dim. Jess's boot scratched the floor as she rocked it back and forth.

"Is he going to die?" she whispered finally, shocked to hear how small and scared she sounded to her own ears.

"No." Bobby answered immediately "Dean is a bloody idjit, I'll give you that. But, he is a cussed, stubborn, sonofabitch if I ever have known one. He will fight this with every damn ounce of strength he has."

Jess nodded soundlessly. She held onto Bobby's conviction with all her might. Perhaps if she repeated it to herself enough times she might eventually believe it. Probably not. Slowly she became aware that he was still speaking.

"…used to say that he could have his arm hanging off by a thread and he would say it was a scratch."

"Tis but a flesh wound." Jess whispered her throat clenching with unwelcome laughter.

"Huh?" Bobby looked legitimately confused.

"S'ry." She squeaked. "That just sounded like Dean in my head."

"Dean never says 'tis" Bobby shot back.

"Monty Pytho… never mind" she whispered. "Sam is always quoting them."

"Oh. You idjit kids stuck in your movie lands." Bobby rolled his eyes.

At some point a little later a nurse returned offering to take them to Dean. Honestly, she didn't even need to ask, as if they were going to say no.

They were lead out of the waiting room and back to the ICU. Jess felt her lungs lock up and her hand flew to her mouth, tears spilling unnoticed down her face. If he had looked terrible before, he looked simply ghastly now. He head was wrapped with a clean white bandage his hair shaved away in a few places beneath they sickeningly colorless wrap. His dusting of freckles looked like ink against the ivory of his skin and his bruised face and eyes looked like death itself. There were tubes down his mouth and his nose and wires ran to wherever there was visible skin.

Jess was overcome by a sudden desire to catch the bitter hopelessness of the situation in pastels of green, purple, black, and white. The peacefulness of his face broke her heart. It wasn't until the room began to spin and her vision began to dance that she remembered to breath again.

"What did you do to his head?" Bobby's question sounded more like a threat, but Jess was figuring him out, threatening was his way of sounding worried.

"The swelling in his skull was expected to go down, instead of up. That is what was causing the seizures." The doctor answered. "We needed to bring down the swelling as fast as possible. Because it spiked so quickly we did not have long before the pressure caused damage so we drilled a few holes into his skull to allow the swelling release. We will have to continue to monitor him closely, but I do not think a full craniotomy will be necessary at this point. Don't worry, once the tubs are removed his skull will heal fine."

"Craniotomy, doctor?" Bobby again.

"When a section of the skull in removed to allow the brain to swell outside of the confines of the skull. It is a fairly uncommon procedure. Like I said, I do not think we will have to do it unless the pressure in his skull spikes again."

"Doctor." Jess asked finally calmed merely by the grounding reality of the situation. "Please don't sugar coat anything, what are his chances of survival?"

"If he wakes up, forty-sixty. The longer time passes without him waking up, the slimmer the chances of survival. I would say, right now. He has a twenty percent chance to survive. A fifteen percent chance to survive without brain damage." The doctor looked grim. "He is a fighter, I'll give him that."

Jess nodded. "Thank you doctor.

"Jess." Bobby said the second the doctor left the room.

"You have to call him Bobby."

"Who?"

"Sam." Jess turned to fully face Bobby. "He needs to know, and he has a right to be here. Dean came for him when he was sick, he knows that, he will want to – need to – come."

"What about you?" Bobby asked knowing full well that Sam did not know about Dean and Jess's relationship.

"I'll leave. I love Dean with all my heart. He is the best brother I could hope for, but, he needs Sam more than me." Jess smiled bitterly. "They need each other. Just, keep me in the loop, please." She recited Sam's number for Bobby to type into his phone, but he did not immediately call.

"Does he know where you are?" he asked.

"He knows I flew to Montana. But the soonest flight, the one I took, flew me to Butte. He does not know I am in Helena, he called earlier but I haven't called him back yet."

"Okay. We are going to come up with an alibi fer you to use. There is a hospital in Anaconda, Montana State Hospital. You will tell him that is where your friend was, he pulled through and you and are headed home from Butte airport. The friend's family paid for your ticket to show their gratitude for your support. Sound good?"

"Do I even want to know how you know about the hospital in Anaconda?" Jess asked.

"Probably not." Bobby replied. He sat down heavily and hit call. In the silence of the room – aside from the beeping machines and the constant swoosh of the ventilator – it was possible to hear the phone ringing on Sam's end. Jessica held her breath.

"_Bobby." _Sam sounded wary.

"Hey Sam, how things going?" Bobby asked wearily, allowing the past few days of strain to seep into his voice.

"_What happened! Who is it?..." _the pause that followed was so brief Jess figured he just must always expect it_ "…It's Dean isn't it! What happened!" _the panic in Sam's voice audibly was building_._

"Yeah kid, it's yer brother." Bobby huffed, so much for breaking it gently. "You need to get here, it's bad."

"_Bobby, I'm at school. I can't just drop everything." _The argument sounded as weak as his voice before it fizzled out at the end_. "How bad is bad?" _And heaven help him, he sounded like a scared little child.

"Fifteen percent chance of survival." Bobby replied with a choked sort of gruffness.

There was a very long strained pause before Sam growled. _"Where are you? And what happened?"_

"St. Peter's hospital, Helena, Montana. He got mauled by a grisly and tossed into a ravine of sorts."

"_Bobby!... I'm on my way. Where's Dad?"_

"I haven't been able to reach him, but I've left a few messages."

"_Figures."_ Sam snorted cutting off the conversation.

"See ya soon kid." Bobby replied with an equally indigent huff to the dead phone.

"Where is their father?" Jess asked timidly.

"Right here, you're looking at him." Bobby retorted pointing at his chest. "I have taken care of them for as long as I have known them, John doesn't deserve to call my boys his kids the damn fool." He turned gruffly and shook his hand at the very still invalid. "You hear that you idjit! You better survive this for me and your brother! And Jess." He added jerking his thumb at her. He sat heavily down in a chair by the wall and rubbed his face wearily. "We need ya kid.

Jess smiled at the sheer mother bear gruff but tender love that was so apparent in the kind redneck.

Suddenly her phone rang. Telling Bobby's alibi was easier then she expected, Sam was very distracted. Yes, she was fine, she was going to stay with her friend's family for the rest of the day and night and fly home tomorrow morning. Yes, he should definitely go if something important had come up. And yes, she certainly loved him.

Sam was going to catch an eight o-clock flight to Montana and be at the hospital by 10am, that gave Jess a little under four hours before she had to leave…

She sat there quietly beside Dean after Sam hung up. Bobby left to give her a moment – and it certainly felt like only a moment when he returned and handed her purse to her. "He just called, he is in a cab and wanted to know the room number and the name Dean is using."

"Thank you." She replied sweetly. She bent over and pressed her lips to the only unbruised place on Dean's cheek. "Listen you, getter better you hear me. I love you very much and I forgive you for ignoring my phone calls these past few months. Sam's coming, take care of him for me okay. Remember, 'cause that's your job and you are the very best. He needs his big brother… so do I." She kissed him again for good luck and slipped out of the room and into the empty one down the row.

A few minutes passed before her heard his unmistakable voice. She would know that voice anywhere even though it was saturated with panic and hitched with pain.

"Bobby." He choked. She could imagine his hazel brown eyes brimming with forbidden tears under his floppy chocolate bangs. "Where is he?"

"It's good to see ya kid. You look great. Here he is right down here. Doctor says if we can't get him to wake up, he probably won't survive." Bobby replied leading him to the room. "He is fighting, though."

Jess peered around the corner to see the familiar profile gazing fixatedly through Dean's door. A tear trickled down his face and she was vaguely aware of a matching one on her own face as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair.

"Oh Dean! Wh-what did you…" he gasped at last. 'Yeah, yeah, the day he stops fighting…" he murmured slipping through the door and out of her sight. _Why? God, why? I know I prayed and hoped that You would make this happen, but did You have to bring them together at the stake of Dean's life? _

Jess knew it was unwise of her to come out of hiding. She should leave. Turn for the door and walk out. Really, it was the wise choice. Just think of how terrible it would be if Sam were to see her… somehow, she figured he would be a little distracted right now.

Jess carefully stole back down the hallway and stepped up behind Bobby where she could see but not really be seen. Sam was standing as if rooted at the foot of Dean's bed. Tears were trickling unheeded down his face as he took everything in. The head wrap to the chest. Stormy-sky coloring against the sickly pallor of his skin. The tubes in his mouth and nose. The leads that monitored the pressure in his skull.

He looked to young, so awfully young and vulnerable. Long black lashed rested gently against freckled cheeks. His chest was rising and falling thanks to the machine forced between the perfect curves of his ashen lips. Just a child lost in a world of pain with nothing to hang onto. Jess muffled her sob in her arm.

"Dean." Sam choked. "You stupid sonofabitch." Taking Dean's needle laden hand in his own he rested his forehead against his brother's white-wrapped sweat-soaked brow. "I'm here, Dean. It's okay now, I'm here. Wake up please." He whispered.

Jess wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she could have sworn Dean's pulse had jumped when his brother had started talking.

Sam ran his fingers through Dean's damp hair above the bandage. Roughly he swiped at his face. "Yeah, I know, I'm such a princess." He laughed pitifully though hitching breaths. Carefully he settled down in the chair that Jess had recently vacated and rested his head on his brother arm. "I'm not going anywhere."

Jess brushed away her own tears and slipped quietly away. This was no longer her world, this was Sam and Dean and that mysterious brotherhood they shared. Bobby chased her down in the lobby and gave her the key and location of his motel.

"Get cleaned up." He growled at her in the same fond manner with which he growled at the boys. She could feel a new wave of emotion at the inclusion into the family threaten to push the situation even farther into unwelcome chick-flick realm, so she just nodded wordlessly and left.

It was easy enough to find the motel. After making a cup of tea, Jess showered quickly and waited. Sure enough, Mac Roni lit up her screen.

"Hey Bobby." She said in a cat-like calm voice.

"Hey yourself. Sam just dropped off in the chair. I figured you would be wondering how he was."

"Yeah, is he going to be okay, or should I plan on "flying out" for moral support?" Jess asked.

"He'll be fine."

"And Dean?"

The silence brought tears back to her eyes.

"Thank you Bobby." Jess whispered. She hung up the phone and shut her eyes against the noon sunlight.

"Be okay Dean, Please be okay." She whispered to the room. The image of Sam's strong tan floppy-hair-fringed forehead resting against Dean pale clammy bandaged one was seared into the backs of her eyes lids in livid watercolors of green and greys, life against death… and she wept.

* * *

><p><strong>Agh<strong>! I know. I'm so terrible!

So, what do you think? Do you like the way I brought Sam in?...? Yes, no.

**Thoughts? Comments?**

So, how is this going to play out? Is **Jess** going to **leave**? Is **Sam** going to find out she was there? Is **Dean** going to wake up? And **what about John**… …what about their wayward father who seems to never show but somehow is always there…

Thanks lovies, and please **review**!

~Kiliana


	13. Smoke on the Water (part 3)

**Okay! **For starters, my birthday was Wednesday. **I'm 21**! Ha! And you should all feel very special because I curled up with a whiskey-sprite and wrote you a chapter. Unfortunately I wasn't finished with it (still am not) so there is going to be another few chapters coming.

So I carefully thought about all your input on what to do with **John**. You will soon see the results of my decision. To begin the chapter **I am in Sam's POV** instead of Jess's (yeah this is a first) when I finish this particular story arc (Dean in the hospital) I will be going back to Jess's POV as the main POV.

Thank you all again! For sticking with me. I love it!

~Kiliana

* * *

><p><strong>Then:<strong>

"_Be okay Dean, Please be okay." She whispered to the room. The image of Sam's strong tan floppy-hair-fringed forehead resting against Dean pale clammy bandaged one was seared into the backs of her eyes lids in livid watercolors of green and greys, life against death… and she wept. _

**Now:**

"Hey." Sam croaked, he cleared his throat, shifted in the chair clutching Dean's uninjured hand a bit tighter and tried again. "Hey Dean, Yeah it's me, Sam – um, Sammy – you know, the geeky annoying little brother, the one who went to college and left you alone with Dad and no home…" Sam's voice chopped out and he scrubbed back tears.

He coughed and turned to look at the wall. "Ummm – uhum… yeah, me. Wow you must hate me."

"Don't be an idjit!" Bobby snorted from the doorway causing Sam to literally fall out of his chair with surprise. "And before you get all," Bobby cut him off with a wave before he could get a word out. "Ya know, chick-fickie on your unconscious brother – Don't be a bloody idjit! Dean loves you more than anyone else in the world… though he would choke me if he heard me say that."

Sam managed a weak smile and nodded. "Thanks Bobby. But, I am a terrible brother."

"Duh, even I would agree with you there, you're a selfish brat! …but he loves you anyway and don't forget that." Bobby turned in a grunt and grabbed the door. "I don't need to see yer tears. I'll go grab a cup'a joe. Be back later."

"Thanks Bobby. For everything. Wait!"

Bobby swung the door open again.

"What happened to him, Bobby?" Sam asked. "It wasn't just a bear was it?"

"In a nutshell." Bobby shut the door and gave him a severe one over. "He got in over his head with a shifter. Working with another hunter who called him asking for help with a skin-walker bear. He got himself mauled, tossed off a pretty nice drop right on a protruding tree branch. He ganked the thing – silver bullet to the heart – from the bottom of the drop with a rod'a wood shoved through his chest, and then survived for several hours, after calling me, until help showed up. When I got here, he was out and hasn't woken up since. His "back-up" – because some two morons took off and left him behind – ditched him the second the bear showed."

Sam gaped like a fish. "Shit." He gulped and looked back at Dean. "Dad left him too?"

"Yeah, you dumbass, both you and yer Dad. Dean's been running solo and just following yer Dad's prompts for a while."

Sam rubbed his forehead and felt tears burning at his eyes again. "Yeah, thanks Bobby." He murmured.

"Sure." Bobby retorted. He shut the door and leaned against it wearily. He wanted to hug the tall gangly "sasquatch" and reassure him that Dean was going to be fine, but for one, he couldn't exactly lie to the kids, and two: Sam needed to know just how badly he screwed his brother by leaving. Tough love. That was Bobby's style. And yes, he staunchly refused to admit those were tears running down his face.

SPN

Sam's eyes were riveted on the floor beside the wheel of the hospital bed. One hand loosely grasped his brother's cold one, while the other was settled on the clip board that described the severity and magnitude of all his brother's injuries. He couldn't read it now, the whole room was swimming through unshed tears.

He hadn't moved for over an hour. Dean's weak pulse fluttered against his hand like a life-line to his reeling world.

He had failed his brother. He – not that other jerk-ass hunter who deserved to rot! – no, he did, because he was the one who walked out and left Dean without reliable back up.

But his brother was a moron too, he could have stopped hunting.

Hah, yeah. As if Dean would _ever _leave the world of hunting. Hunting was as much a part of Dean as that stupid leather jacket and the familiar scent that was more familiar to Sam than the back of his hand; gun-powder mixed with sweat with Dean's own warm smoky scent that still faintly clung to his body under the hospital antiseptic.

Frankly, Sam would be terrified if Dean ever _did _stop hunting. He would have to do the whole salt, iron, and holy water routine if that ever happened.

It was why he never called, he knew, because he would beg Dean to leave hunting and join him, and Dean wouldn't, because he couldn't and because he was – well, Dean. And Dean? Well Dean would ask him to come back and join him, and he would, because he could, and well, it was – well, Dean…

Sam blinked emptily. And their Dad. Damn! He hated him even more now… Not a word. Where even was he? Self-centered, neglectful, obsessed, lame excuse for a -"

An unsteady trip in the steady rhythm of Dean's heart startled him out of his train of though. "Dean?" Sam shot to his feet and bent over his emaciated inert brother. "Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean, didn't move. The ventilator swooshed on unperturbed. The steady trip of the trembling heart beeped on steadily.

Sam chuckled wryly. How totally Dean. Their dad wasn't even here, Sam hadn't said a word out loud, and Dean – unconscious and clinging to life by the fringes with the tips of his metamorphic fingers-tips – was still getting between them to stop the argument.

Sam sat back down with a shuttering breath and pillowed his head on the bed against Dean's hand. Dean's thigh felt cold through the cloth sheets where it was pressed against his brother's head. So Sam quietly spread another blanket over him and resumed his previous position firmly clutching Dean's hand.

Sometime later, it could have been days for all Sam knew, the door swung quietly open to admit the doctor.

Sam sat up in a rush rubbing his bleary eyes roughly to better see the intruder.

"Ah, I'm sorry to disturb you." The doctor whispered making his way to Dean's bed.

"No, no it's quite alright." Sam hastily amended.

"I'm Doctor Shawn. I'm your brother's physician. You must be his brother?"

"Yep, yeah, that's me. Sam, Sam White." Sam stood and held out his hand. If the doctor was at all surprised at his size, he didn't show it.

"So, how is he doing Doctor?" The concern, hope and dread in his voice was pitifully obvious.

"Well… hum. His temperature is coming back up." He doctor said in a confused voice.

"But, that is a good thing right?" Sam asked as the doctor ran his hand across Dean's forehead below the bandage and down both arms where ever there was skin showing.

"Oh yes. Very good indeed, just, unexpected." The doctor hummed for a moment. "That's interesting." He grinned at Sam. "You have been holding his hand here, haven't you?"

Sam flushed red to the ears. "Ummm…"

"Oh no. I want you to continue to do so. I could make it a doctor's order if you want."

"What? Why!" Sam looked, if possible, even more embarrassed.

"Because his hand is at least three degrees warmer than the rest of his body. I believe you are warming him up where the blankets weren't affective." The doctor chuckled.

"Wait. I'm warming up my freezing cold brother by simply holding his hand, while you said the electric blankets weren't able to?"

"Yes." The doctor agreed amiably. "Human contact is an amazing therapy. The pulsing of your own heart alone sets your hand apart from the heated blankets. Plus physical touch is calming."

"Really?" Sam mister-geek-know-it-all hadn't heard this before.

"Yu-hum. When a mother has a child she will shiver uncontrollably until she is given her child. They warm each other up. Human contact is incredible." The doctor continued as he finished up his assessment. "Although I have never seen anyone warm an individual up completely through the hand. It was nice meeting you Sam, don't let go of that hand. Doctor's order." He flashed the bewildered Sam and cheeky grin and slipped out.

"I like that guy." Sam informed the silent occupant of the room. "He is good, and has plenty of audacity…" he picked up his brothers hand and sat back down. "I bet you would like him too if you would open your eyes." Hopefully Sam scanned his brother's face before huffing in disappointment. "Yeah, I didn't think that would work, though… never hurts to try."

His head plunked back down nestled against Dean's thigh and he sighed.

"Jerk." It stung when there was no comeback.

SPN

Jess was dozing. Not really sleeping, rather dozing. Her eyes were mere slits through which the sun filtered with no particular shape. So comfortable was her body that her legs seemed to be floating and her arms buzzed.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a phone began to chirp. Jess shot up and craned her neck curiously at the desk. The light of the screen of a completely strange phone went dark and silent.

_Who's phone is that! _Jess wondered. _Not, mine… not Dean's cause Bobby has… Oh, It's Bobby's. _

Abruptly it began to ring again. Jess tiptoed closer. _As if it could see me for me to need to be tiptoeing. _She snickered at herself in exasperation.

*John Winchester* said the caller ID

Jess froze.

Ring.

Her hand moved of its own accord.

Ri-

"Hello." She asked in a throaty purr.

There was a moment of silence and then – "Where is Bobby!" the voice was gruff and harsh but lined with whispers of fear and a sheen of charm. It was undoubtedly and unmistakably a Winchester.

"You Bastard!" Jess snapped.

SPN

It was cold and dark. Okay… take that back… it was freezing and dark. Somewhere faintly there was the hint of warmth, just out of reach but creeping relentlessly forward.

Where was he? What had happened? The Bear – skin-walker. If he had had a throat to feel he was sure it would have gone tight.

The hunter – Robson… That's right.

_He curled his hands around the Jim Beam that was apparently his only friend left in the world would wouldn't walk out on him. Okay, yeah he was drunk. REALLY drunk, and not at all happy. Wasn't drinking yourself under the table supposed to help you forget, not remember every DAMN thing that was EVER said. _

_He groaned and drew a shot right out of the bottle._

_He needed a hunt and he needed one Now, Damnit._

_Almost as in answer to his prayers, he phone buzzed in his pocket buzzed against his thigh._

"_Hhheello…" Crap that sounded terrible. Let's try that again. "H-hello."_

"_Dean Winchester?" It was more a question than anything else._

"_Well, shit. I guess that's still right."_

"_Why you trying to change it?"_

"_hhhhh… Who's askin'"_

"_Names Robson, Dale Robson. I am in need of some help and Bobby Singer said you're the best."_

"_Doubt that." Dean growled and rubbed his face. "What kinda hunt?"_

"_Shin-Walker in Montana. Just outside of Helena. Mt. Helena Park. Can you give me a hand? I need ya there by Wednesday."_

"_Sure. Whatt-tever man." Dean slurred. "Wednesday, Helena Park." He clicked his phone shut._

_Skin-walker… almost as good as a pack of wolves. He finished his drink, left a wad of cash, and weaved his way to the exit._

_The moment the cold air hit his face, Dean doubled over heaving into the grass. Ugh! Yeah sure he was going to be in Montana by Wednesday. _

_Dean hauled himself back upright and stumbled back into the bar. The tender's brows went up at his sudden and unglamorous return. _

"_nuther whisssskey." He slurred. _

"_Dude you have had plenty I think." The bartender argued halfheartedly as he began to fill another shot glass. But, as the tip jar smashed into the wall inches from his head in the dead center of the 'specials board,' his halfhearted denial exploded. He spun around to face the very drunk hunter waving the bouncer over with one hand._

"_Who do you think you are." The tender snapped._

"_I asked for another." Dean growled mencingly suddenly sounded dead sober but for the tilt of his swaying body. "Keep your pinions to yerself…"_

"_Boy." The bouncer rumbled from swinging his six feet of muscle and fat over with practiced ease. "You're done. Either leave on your own power or I'm dragging you."_

"_You wowldent." Dean peered way up at him with steely determination is his dilated eyes._

_In answer the bouncer grabbed his arm firmly._

_Dean may have been drunk – too drunk to walk or see straight – but he was certainly not too drunk for his instinctual training to fail. Left hand caught the bouncer's wrist and solidly booted feet found purchase on the counter and he flipped himself out of his chair over the back and to a crouch on the floor. With no other option, the bouncer came along for the ride. The moment Dean made very solid controlled contact with the floor he twisted up on the wrist in his hand slipping the bone free from the socket with a dull, sucking pop. Continuing the upward motions his fist smashed into the bouncer's jaw. He hit the ground like a rock and didn't move. Dean swayed, flailed wilding for the nearest chair and cracked his knuckles. "Damn." He muttered. "I guess you would. Sorry, I don't like to be touched." _

_He looked up at the bartenders shocked and quickly reddening face. "Sorry. I'll leave." He swiped the nearest drink, shooting the rightful owner and deadly scowl, and downed it in one. After his little display, no one lifted a hand to stop him as he crazily wound back to the door. He found the correct handle out of the six he was seeing and slipped back into the cold._

_Two miles and two hours later, his shaky hands locked the motel door behind him before he passed out in the middle of the room, face pressed up against the rough carpet._

* * *

><p>So, what do you think? <strong>Good<strong>, **bad,** **ugly**…

**Superchiwo**: Yeah, John is going to rearing his head. Muahaha!

**KatilynUzumaki**: Sam might…. Possibly… in the distant future….

**Idreamofivan**: Me too! I actually like John's character. And Sam, yeah….

**Cyenthia** **30:** I figure you are going to enjoy the next chapter too!

Oh thank you all so much for reading!

~Kiliana


	14. Smoke on the Water (part 4)

Hello, hello! Welcome to the story John.

So first. I am very sorry for the lag in writing. I have class starting in 8 days. Yeah Christmas break my foot! Anyway. With the craziness of Christmas and travel and orientation for my classes… I haven't gotten in as much writing as I would like. Anyway. Here is another part. I am going to combine some of the earlier chapters because I want too… eventually. I am tried of this story line so I am wrapping it up and will be back to Dean and Jess phone calls soon. YAY! I know I can't wait.

On that note, John Winchester is a BLAST to write! Because I am writing it completely from Jess's perspective (for the second two-thirds of this chapter) and I got carried away. One more chapter and this story line will be wrapped up.

I Really want to know what you think of this chapter. More than anything.

I elaborated at the end. Enjoy!

Kiliana.

* * *

><p><strong>Then:<strong>

_*John Winchester* said the caller ID_

_Jess froze._

_Ring._

_Her hand moved of its own accord._

_Ri-_

"_Hello." She asked in a throaty purr._

_There was a moment of silence and then – "Where is Bobby!" the voice was gruff and harsh but lined with whispers of fear and a sheen of charm. It was undoubtedly and unmistakably a Winchester._

"_You Bastard!" Jess snapped._

**Now:**

Jess almost flung the phone in her sudden rage.

"Wah… me?" John sounded angry and confused.

"Yes you! What you don't care enough for your boy to call back. Huh! It that it? Do you hate him? He has been in the damn hospital for four days on deaths door and you don't even call. Oh not to mention the fact that you abandoned him before that. Kick one kid out and disown him just to dump the other like unneeded baggage…"

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" John thundered cutting her off with the speed and ferocity of a freight train.

Jess's voice closed up in sudden fear.

"No, I don't hate my sons. But you couldn't possibly understand why I did what I did. Now. Where. Is. My. Son!"

Jess's mind blanked for a moments. _Hateful bastard deserves a heart-attack if he even has a heart to attack. _"He is dead, John Winchester. He is dead." And Jess snapped the phone shut, tears dripping down her own face at the mere idea.

Quickly she drew out her own phone and called Dean's number.

"'lo" Bobby greeted her tiredly.

"Hey, I figured I owed you a fair warning. I pissed off one John Winchester when he called your phone."

"Balls." Bobby sighed gruffly. She could hear him rub his eyes in frustration. "Okay, I'll get ready fer the fallout."

"How is Sam?"

"He's in with Dean. Doctor just checked in on them."

"Kay thanks." Jess whispered.

SPN

Sam smoothed Dean's hair away from his face for the thousandth time or something like that.

"You know, I miss you. I want my big brother. So you have to get better, Dean. You have to get better for you pain-in-the-ass little brother cause I couldn't live knowing you died because I wasn't there to watch your back." He scrubbed a hand over his face. Dean's temperature had come up another degree. The afternoon had bleed away into night. Bobby positioned himself in the corner when the doctor returned.

"Good, good." The doctor muttered. "So far so good."

Sam looked up leery eyed. "Can I lay beside him?" He asked softly embarrassed that Bobby had to hear that request.

Bobby smiled fondly. Even since Dean had first stepped into his house lugging his toddler brother in his arms, Sam would always sleep as close as possible when one of them was hurt.

The doctor nodded. "You're right. That would do wonders for his temperature. I'll have the nurses help you shift him over to make room."

Hardly any time later, Sam slipped on to the bed beside his still brother. He retracted his long limbs to avoid hitting Dean in his sleep, tucking his brother's good arm under his own and across his furnace of a chest. He rolled on to his side and rested his shaggy head against Dean's bare shoulder. Almost instantly Dean's heart beat settled ever so slightly and his EKG evened, relaxing unconsciously in his brother's presence.

Bobby shook his head fondly and draped a blanket loosely over the monster-sized little brother. In the silence of the hospital room he watched him sleep silently side-by-side like they were always meant to be.

Since Sam had left and John high-tailed it in the other direction Bobby had watched Dean slowly destroy himself throwing caution to the wind and burying his troubles in a bottle of jack. Without his geeky, overly cautious little brother, Dean turned into a whirlwind of destruction. Now, cold, unmoving, colored like the night, Dean looked more at peace then he had looked since the night Sam had walked away.

Bobby sighed and sat down in the chair that had housed Sam all afternoon.

At about midnight, accompanied by a clamor of nurses and ruckus of destruction, the door swung open to reveal the disheveled, livid, and completely animalistic looking eldest Winchester. His dark hair was tangled and ruffled telling of agitation and worry; and his eyes were wide with anger and fright. The name "Dean" died on his lips as he glanced around the room.

Bobby sprang to his feet moving faster than he thought he could, and gave John and shove back out of the door.

"Move!" John roared.

"You go in there raging like that and you will kill him!" Bobby hissed firmly planting himself in front of the door. After a brief vicious wrestling match, John stepped back. The look on his face sent nurses scurrying.

"Listen up idjit!" Bobby growled staring the marine down. "He has been picking up on emotions like crazy. Stress sends his brain and body into spasms. There are three holes in his scull at the moment. He will not survive another seizure! You've GOT to calm down John!"

John rubbed furiously at his face. "He's alive?" he whispered so brokenly Bobby almost forgot he didn't like the man.

"Yeah. I guess I know what she meant by pissing off a John Winchester."

John breathed in and out and – "Is there a problem here sirs?" The security team asked closing on the two men from both directions.

"Yeah. No problem." Bobby said letting John continue to try and get a handle on his anger. "This is John White. There was a mix up in the communication and he thought his boy was dead. We are alright here."

The security teams looked skeptical, but it was midnight, and they were tired, and Bobby had made sense. "Okay, but keep the noise down or we are going to kick you out."

"Yup." Bobby waved them away and turned back to John. "Listen. Sam's in there. And unless you want to get in a screaming match and get kicked out, I wouldn't wake him up."

John nodded and trying to push past Bobby. "One more thing, John. That girl who you talk to, she wasn't kidding about how bad he looks, John."

"Let me in, Singer!" John growled. "My boys are in there and one of them is hurt. Move."

Bobby huffed and opened the door walking in first. John sprang to his son's side in a single bound.

Frozen at the bottom of the bed he took in the picture. Sam was flushed with heat in the stuffy room, his long legs were crossed over the foot of the bed and his was snoring softly against his brother's shoulder.

In contrast Dean was a watercolor painted in white and green and blue. Bruises shadowed his face and his lashes were lost in the darkness that circled his eyes. The white bandage around his forehead set off the bruises in vibrant colors. Despite the whoosh and click of the ventilator, his chest barely seemed to move at all beneath the heavy bandages that seemed to be all that held his battered body together.

"I'm going to kill Dale Robson." John whispered hoarsely to the room. Bobby didn't for a moment doubt him. He moved slowly to the side of the bed and ghosted his hand across his eldest's face. Leaning over he softly pressed a kiss to Dean's brow just above his eyes.

"Dean" he whispered thickly. "I'm sorry. I was wrong to leave you without back-up you can trust. You gotta get better for me son. Please."

Dean's heart rate kicked up a few notches at his father's voice, and instantly Sam was awake. His brown eyes opened groggily to the world and landed on the face of his father.

"Dad?" he slurred sleepily, visibly fighting off the folds of sleep.

"Yeah, son. It's me. Go back to sleep kid. You're both safe."

"Dean okay?" Sam asked dragging his brother's arm closer into his chest. And propping himself on his elbow.

"Yeah. He knows I'm here though." John answered. His eyes traced Sam's firm hold on Dean's hand down his battered and IVed arm to his silent, cold face. Sam nodded slowly and followed his father's glance.

"Good. I know he would want you to be." Sam murmured "I didn't think you would come."

John brushed his knuckled across Sam's arm and gently pushed him back down into the bed.

"I'm here. Sam, I'm here." He sighed raggedly and treaded his fingers gently through Sam brown hair. "Sleep kiddo."

Bobby shook his head. Damn stubborn Winchester and their black and white world and their stubborn pride. Damn stubborn men who you couldn't help but like. Damnit. He was tempted to think the whole scene cute for about half a minute – before he thought (in Dean's voice of course) "You're such a girl, Bobby." He chuckled

John sank down into the chair by Dean and rested his hand on his shoulder. He didn't sleep that night, just counted his Sam's snores and the pulses of Dean's heart against his fingers.

In the morning he was gone.

SPN

Jess walked quickly through the waiting room of the hospital. It was filling up with people already and it was only eight in the morning. Jess rounded the corner headed to Dean's room when she walked directly into a tall man.

"Excuse me she murmured without looking up."

"I'm sorry." He said in Sam's voice with Dean's charm and gentle husky gruffness. "I wasn't looking where I was-"

"Winchester?" She gasped in shock looking directly up into Sam's brown eyes. They narrowed in sudden mistrust and his hand latched onto her arm in a way that wouldn't possibly draw attention.

"Who the hell are you!" He demanded.

"I take it you figured out he is alive?" She breathed.

John quickly assessed their surroundings and drew her into a side room pinning her against the wall.

"Who gave you the right to-" He started in a dark frightening voice before she cut him off.

"You only come if their dead." Her voice was full of accusation and possibly just as dark. She had certainly been learning from Sam.

John let go of her like he had been burned. "Dean said his was fine last I talked to him. He was going camping with a friend. I went out of service on a business trip and when I get back I have fifty-six messages from Bobby. When I call, I get a girl. A girl who thinks she knows a Damn thing and tells me my son – who I talked to five days before and he was fine – is dead." He closed the space between them. "I drove over a hundred miles per hour all night to get here. The whole way I could hardly breathe. I basically wrecked the hospital trying to get to his room, and guess what? YOU LIED TO ME!"

Jess paled as his face almost touched her's. He smelled like Dean – gun-powered and sweat mixed with leather and smoke. It was nostalgic but did nothing to relieve her fear. Was it possible that she had misjudged the man?"

"I'm Jess." She squeaked "Jessica Moore."

Sam's father stepped away from her and visibly deflated. "Sam's girl friend." He acknowledged.

"He doesn't know I am here." She explained in a slightly stronger voice.

"I can believe that. Dean told me about your friendship."

"I'm sorry I lied. You hadn't come and Dean was seizing and they were talking about fifteen percent survival chances last I heard. I was mad and took it out on you."

John nodded and glanced around before leading her back towards the waiting room. "I understand this time, but don't you EVER do that again! Now, go check on the boys and come back. I want to talk."

"My plane leaves at ten." She replied.

"Good so we have two hours." His voice left no room for discussion. _Oh help. Maybe I could wake Sam up to defend me… yeah right! Ummm… maybe I could dawdle… YEAH RIGHT! Suck it up Jess, he's not going to eat you… I hope…_

Jess found herself moving on autopilot all the way to Dean's door. Sam was still asleep clinging to Dean's arm like a drowning man. Dean was just as still and silent as before. Jess smiled at Bobby, kissed Dean, and fled before Sam could possibly open his eyes.

On the way back to the waiting room she found her heart hammering harder and harder. _This was John bloody Winchester_. The man who Sam couldn't stand. The man who kicked him out. The cause of the scares that littered Sam's body. She didn't know a thing about him.

And she was suddenly scared.

But when she was greeted by a smile as he held the door… Oh help – she was in over her head. Who ever said to stay far away from the Winchesters if you want to preserve your sanity, (surely someone had said that at least once in the history of mankind) hadn't been kidding.

John smiled, and walked her to her car, and help the door, and gave her directions to the nearest breakfast store, and made sure she knew she better not go anywhere else with his eyes.

Jess obeyed. Like, WHAT ELSE WAS SHE EXPECTED TO DO!

In the car she talked, fast, rambling, out loud… working herself up and gathering her confidence. Hell yeah, she could take John bloody freaking Winchester on any day of the week and come out looking like those commercial models with flowing silky hair and perfect make-up. She was going to CRUSH the guys… and Oh dear he was coming to get her door… yeah, forget the perfect make-up, she'd settle for the hair.

No wonder Sam didn't like him, he commanded obedience and scared you to death if you didn't obey.

Then, in the booth in the diner –

"So. Would you care to explain yourself!" She spat out before losing all of her hard won car confidence.

For a moment he said absolutely nothing but simply stared at her with an amused half smile (another proof that he was most certainly Dean's father.) "Explain myself about what?"

"Why you kicked your son – my boyfriend – your child out and banished him from the family. At least Dean has the honor to check in on him and make sure he is doing okay."

John smiled all the more. "Yes, he certainly does. You couldn't possibly understand."

"Do not brush me off. I understand more than most people would. I live with him."

"And yet you know nothing about his childhood at all." John sighed.

Jess recoiled. "Yeah I do. Dean raised him. You were never home. You kicked him out and forced Dean to choose who to stay with."

John's face betrayed nothing of what he thought of that little spiel.

"So yeah." She continued feeling slightly more confident. "You are a terrible Dad! He never asks for his father when he is sick or asleep or hurt. He asks for Dean. He begs me to get Dean. He wants only DEAN! Not you! Never you! Dean knows everything about him. What do you know? What is his least favorite vegetable?" she dared

"Broccoli." John answered though he seemed to need a moment to control his voice.

"What is he allergic to?" she snapped again annoyed that he knew the answer.

"Penicillin. Large quantities of strawberries. Oh and exercise." John cracked a smile on the last one.

Jess frowned. She didn't know if the strawberries part was true or not. "His favorite color and book?"

John's eyebrows lifted a little. "Blue and The Lord of the Flies?" That was definitely a question.

"No. Green and The Iliad by Homer." Okay Jess was more than smug. "What is his favorite comfort food?"

John chuckled. "You really going to keep this up…"

"Are you avoiding the question."

"Um… something canned. (Dean made a ton of canned stuff before he got old enough to cook.)"

_Was the smartass enjoying this Q&A? _Jess frowned. _He was actually enjoying it. She was supposed to be showing him what a terrible father he was. _

"No! It's mac and cheese." She retorted.

"Boxed – canned – same difference." He retorted back.

"Favorite song."

"Hey Jude. Beetles."

_And wow, was that pain and regret she saw in his eyes for a split second. _"Yeah." She replied suddenly softening for some reason (definitely not because of the second of actual anguish she had seen.)

"I have one." He said catching her eye. "Favorite Gun."

Jess's mouth dropped open.

"Or his record for maximum pushups in one go." John added his face once more impassive.

"W…what?" Jess's mind was reeling. _Who had a favorite gun? Who the hell counted pushups and gloried in that?_

John grinned. "91. He was pretty proud. Dean had stopped at 90 to go make dinner and Sam was determined to beat him for once. And it's a Taurus PT92AFS if you were wondering about the gun." He added – _Hell he was even smug._

"If anything, that shows what a bad father you are that he even needs to have a favorite gun. Normal people don't know that much about GUNS!" Jess argued.

This time his face was too well controlled to show the regret although it reflected in his eyes.

"Isn't that the truth. You do know who and what I am right… I am a soldier, of course my boys know guns."

Jess sat back and rubbed her fingers together under the table. This wasn't going as planned.

John grinned finally. "Figured I wouldn't know the answers? Figured I didn't know anything about my own Sons? The only things I have left of their mother? Sure, Dean always filled out any necessary forms. And Yes, Dean watched out for him and took care of him because I worked. You're right, I never could and never will win the father of the year award. But that doesn't mean I don't love my boys and wish the best for them. Dean fills me in on what Sammy is up to whenever you talk, and Dean is not the only person who has driven past your apartment just to make sure he is safe! You're wrong Jess. I do love my son. I only told him to stay gone for his own safety and THAT is what you could NEVER understand even if you were to try. The only way to insure he stayed safe was to make sure he never came back." John's voice had dropped to a husky growl.

For once, Jess wouldn't tell if she was being played. If she was, he was terribly good at it.

"All the same." She whispered back. "You didn't raise him. Dean did!" she spat it as best as she could, determined not to like him. Sam made him seem like a tough, controlling, negligent monster and be damned if she was going to like him.

John sat back and whistled through his teeth.

"I like you kid. You'll do just fine in this world." He chuckled. Their food had arrived and the waitress had fled at some point in the conversation that they hadn't noticed. So she dug into her sandwich so she didn't have to think about his dark eyes – Sam's eyes – boring into the top of her skull. Soon John followed suit.

They paid for the dinner and left. John met her eyes squarely "Take the car back to the rental at the airport. I'll drop you off at the door and make sure you get through security." Once again it was an order that left no room for argument.

Jess scampered to her door and ducked inside. _I hate them! Stupid stubborn Winchesters and their infuriating way of getting on your nerves and into your heart and still scaring the crap out of you all the time. Seriously. What is his problem? And I thought Sam had a scary side, turns out he is the most normal of the family. Boy am I glad I didn't grow up in that family._

At the rental place she considered hopping the shuttle for half a moment before the big scary truck pulled up and John's eyes snared her like a tractor beam and pulled her inside.

"Freaking death star." She grumbled climbing in. Yeah, she wasn't having the best morning.

John's eyes twinkled. "What is? My truck? It's not big enough."

Jess rolled her eyes (carefully turned away so as not to anger the beast) and sat back. John parked the car in the thirty minute drop-off zone and walked her in the building.

"Hello, good morning! How may I help you today?" the perky, sickeningly happy baggage claim lady asked. Jess felt like snapping at her but suddenly John was talking.

"Well good morning." He chirped back though Jess could see his shoulders stiffen just like Sam's when he was incredibly annoyed and trying not to show it. _Good at least she wasn't the only one who didn't like the giddy happy dorky fat lady behind the counter. Gosh Jess. Be a little more descriptive. What is up with me today!_

"How may I help you, are you checking bags?"

"I'm not." He replied easily as he set the bag down in the scale. "My daughter here is returning to school."

"Oh. That's so exciting. Here you go sweetheart-" Jess's blood boiled. How dare she call her that is Dean dying in a hospital an hour away. "-you're ID and you'll be all set." _Shoot I missed something._

"Just the ID baby." John's voice rumbled as he set his hand on her arm and brought her gaze up to his. His eyes were angry (not at her) and apologetic… apparently he knew about Dean's nickname for her. How he had figured it out mystified her. Yeah she was never going to figure that answer out.

He handed out the little piece of important plastic and discovered that John was explaining to the lady behind the counter "Oh no, she'll be fine. Flying makes her a little nervous." _Yeah right, but still it was nice for him to cover my blunder._

With the bags checked and her ticket printed. He walked her through security and down to the gate. How he made it through security was beyond her. He was basically a walking magnet he had so much metal on him. He filled the bucket and had to remove his shoes because they were steel toed. The security guards had laughed and he had laughed back without losing the stiffening of his shoulders.

_Wait… why was he even going through all the trouble? He wasn't flying. He was suffering being the butt of a joke (a capital offence in his mind she assumed) just to make sure she made it to her destination. Either he was babysitting her, or he was more a gentleman then he liked to let on. _Though she figured it may have something to do with the fact that she was Sam's girl, he claimed to care for Sam's safety, Sam's mom was blonde and looked a lot like her (according to the picture on the mantel). Anyway. She _knew_ that Dean would have escorted her and he had to learn it from somewhere. _Wait… why am I making excuses for him. I don't even like the guy…_

Suddenly he was back at her side and smiling like nothing had happened. "I made it." _Oh dear… he was laughing… so it was funny in hindsight was it?... _

They found her gate quickly and suddenly she was really glad he was there because of one stupid jerk who had fled before John's scowl and left all notions of hitting on her behind. _So the Winchester scowl works for all of them the same way. Nice to know._

At the gate he turned to face her.

"I know you don't like me. Sam doesn't particularly like me either. Dean is his hero, not me. So, you're right. I'm a pretty crappy dad. But I love him, and he loves you. So, this is my number. If you EVER need anything and Dean can't help you, leave me a message I'll call you back." He handed her a scrap of thick paper that looked like it was torn out of a journal. Jess pocketed it and nodded.

He ghosted a hand over her arm and turned away leaving her standing behind him. Then just before he walked away he turned back and gave her a sad smile.

"Take care of Dean's Sammy for me." He said and left her gaping.

_WHAT!... …. …Dean's Sammy… _Jess teared up as she made her way to her seat. Even John knew and acknowledged that Sam was more Dean's child then his own. There was something in his face when he parted with those words, regret, sorrow, pain, remorse, and… in his children. Jess shook her head and tried to clear her mind of the mystery that was John Winchester.

The plane shot into the air to hang balanced on the arms of the wind. Behind her Dean was cold and unresponsive, Sam was breaking into pieces, and John was watching over them both from a distance as he seemed to have done all their lives.

She liked him, the mystery that was John Winchester.

* * *

><p>So I was assuming that since it is technically before 2001 John can go through security with Jess. I remember going all the way to the gate with my Dad all the time when I was a kid so I just went off of that.<p>

So if Jess is acting a little out of character… just remember she is interacting with John Bloody Winchester, which alone is enough to through anyone out of whack.

Also. I happen to like the idea of John being a terrible father trying his hardest to be a good father. Trying to reconcile hunting with being a Dad is impossible so I think of him as trying.

Think of it this way. He just lost his wife and wants to kill everyone and everything he can get his hands on just to make someone else hurt too. Then he finds out that what killed her is the kind of thing he actually CAN kill without being a murderer. So he wrecks he pain and frustration on every evil sob out there. The boys are small enough to truck around in the car and Dean (who knows what is going on) takes care of Sammy so he doesn't feel so bad about leaving them alone for the very reason he should. (Because humans are the masters at justification. We can reason a way for anything) so he figures it is okay for short times because Dean is watchful. Soon it just becomes the way he lives, he hunts, and comes back to take care of his kids. All the while the boys grow and soon you have a terrible father who is never home, who loves his boys and who suddenly realizes they are grown up and pursuing their own lives. Sam wants to leave, John realizes that he can't protect Sam if he leaves. They argue and John runs him off so completely he will never return to hunting, because if he is alone, he better not be asking for trouble alone.

There that is sorta what I had in mind. I'm gonna write it eventually into a story perhaps.

But yeah, I like John as a character (and I am so thankful he is not my dad).

Plus I think he would like Jess and she would be able to accept him like she did Dean. After all they are both con-men and John isn't always angry. So hope you liked it.

Please, Please, Please, review I like to know what other people think of John. He is one of the most interesting and conflicted characters on the show. (And despite his faults, he turned out some great boys)

Thanks, Lovies.

Reviews and candy for my muse.

Kiliana

PS: I found it funny that the title this story on my computer is "drabble" because that is how it started… haha…. Yeah right…


	15. Smoke on the Water (part 5)

Hey, I'm back again.

So I hope you will all go check out my 'tag' story to this one. Since I didn't do a Christmas or New Year special (because of a crazy schedule) I decided to write it as a tag story. I'm calling it "Resolution".(now posted)

thanks lovies

~Kiliana

* * *

><p>It was incredibly dark. Far too dark. Something was wrong… Oh right… he had been drinking. Like <em>drinking<em> drinking. And then he had gone to the cabin and… led the bear right into the trap that wasn't there because… Fugly McFugler ran like a sissy girl! Yeah, so what if he sounded childish…

The bear tossed him and he landed… that's right... And it hurt like A BITCH! DAMN! WOW! Okay so he couldn't move or see. That's just wonderful. Thank you and Happy Birthday too you Fugly McFugler! You're gonna wish you had stayed!

He was still floating in the blackness though, which was just great by the way. Scratch that. He was spinning.

Wait! That was Sammy's voice. Sam. No, no way.

Sammy was at school.

Sammy had left.

Sammy left me.

So I was dreaming. But what was dream Sammy saying surely it wouldn't hurt to listen to dream Sammy.

"_I like that guy."_

Yeah, I bet you do, Sammy. You like EVERYONE! Was there every anyone you didn't like… oh yeah. Dad. Duh. stupid me stupid-

"_He is good, and has plenty of audacity…" _

What? Who does? Okay so what guy would this be? And don't tell me this has to do with school because-

"_I bet you would like him too if you would open your eyes." _

Open my eyes? Oooooo-kay. Um they are open genius… no wait. They aren't. Shit! Why can't I open – Sammy I can't open my eyes. Sam. You're really aren't you? SAM! …Sammy…I can't I-

"_Yeah, I didn't think that would work, though… never hurts to try."_

Sammy… …I'm here. I right here. I'm trying to. Help me out bro! I'm stuck, its dark and it scary and I'm floating. Spinning Sammy. I can't stop spinning!

Suddenly there was something warm nestled against Dean's thigh and the spinning blissfully slowed.

"_Jerk."_

It was familiar. It was Sam.

BITCH! Sammy I can't yell, you know… either. I'm trying.

Sam sighed in the darkness. He tried to match it. But the darkness only got thicker his breathing wasn't changing. He couldn't sigh or yell or talk he could only breathe at a steady annoying pace he had no control over. The panic began to worm its way back into his chest.

"_Open your eyes Dean, please. For me. For Bobby. For Dad."_

Dad? Wow wait, historical moment. Someone run and grab a scribe (and yes, Sam! I know what a scribe is) Sam just said Dad's name without sneering or sounding angry.

"_I promise I won't yell at him ever again, no matter what. Just, please wake up."_

Really? You ACTUALLY think you could do that? I think I might put money on ten minutes but, ever again… Sam. Sammy are you hurting in the head... Are you hurt? SAM!

Dad's gonna be pissed I messed up the hunt bro, you know that right? I should have been able to kill a stupid bear.

Oh wait.

I did.

I killed it. I was on the ground and hurt and I killed it and called Bobby. Wait. Why did I call Bobby? How bad am I hurt?

Shit.

You're not hurt are you Sam. It's me…right? I'm hurt…

…

…Am I dying Sam? Is that why you are here and not at school. Am I…?

The darkness is back, dark and thick and I can't breathe Sam I can't I…

SPN

Sam had fallen asleep beside his brother but the sound of raised voices pulled him slowly out of the blankets of sleep.

"_Listen. Sam's in there. And unless you want to get in a screaming match and get kicked out, I wouldn't wake him up." _Well that was Bobby ripping someone a new one…_"One more thing, John. That girl who you talk to, she wasn't kidding about how bad he looks, John."_

John. Dad! Sam's eyes flashed open to the half closed door being help by Bobby's hand.

"_Let me in, Singer!" _His Dad's familiar deep timbre sounded through the room. As much as he spent most of the time angry at him, he had never been as happy to hear his voice. _"My boys are in there and one of them is hurt. Move."_

My Boys. Yep. That's us. He squeezed Dean's arm harder. "Da's'ere" he muttered sleepily. Sam closed his eyes and pretended to sleep again. Years and years of practice had made him an expert. The only person who could see through his fake was unconscious next to him.

Suddenly Dad was there. Standing at the foot of the bed. Sam kept his soft snores even and steady. The pull of sleep was luring him back in but he hung on for a few minutes.

John's pain breathing was the only thing that told Sam he was still there probably staring in shock at his oldest son's face. Because really, how else were you to stare at it the first time – he looks terrible!

"_I'm going to kill Dale Robson." _John whispered hoarsely to the room. Sam believe it. Dale Robson was so dead. If dad didn't, Sam would. Sure, he would have to get him bit by a werewolf first… technicalities.

Suddenly the bed on Dean's side dipped ever so slightly. The heat from John's body was tangible even from where Sam was laying.

"_Dean" _their father whispered thickly._ "I'm sorry. I was wrong to leave you without back-up you can trust. You gotta get better for me son. Please."_

Damn straight you're sorry. I left because I thought he would be covered!

The steady beeping of the machine jumped ever so slightly but Sam was aware. That rhythm was seared into his mind that night and the shift sounded like a gun shot.

He opened his eyes in worry t check on his brother and see what his father was doing. His eyes were heavy with sleep that was beckoning him but he needed to check.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"Yeah, son. It's me. Go back to sleep kid. You're both safe."

"Dean okay?" Sam asked dragging his brother's arm closer into his chest. And propping himself on his elbow. His father was here. And well he had sorta just promised Dean that he would never argue again. Well it wasn't exactly a promise, but still he was going to try for Dean's sake. His heart rate at least seemed to be slightly aware what was going on.

"Yeah. He knows I'm here though." John answered. Sam watched his eyes traced Dean's hand and battered and IVed arm to his silent, cold face.

"Good. I know he would want you to be." Sam murmured "I didn't think you would come, though."

John brushed his knuckled across Sam's arm and gently pushed him back down into the bed.

"I'm here, Tiger, I'm here." He sighed raggedly and threaded his fingers gently through Sam brown hair. "Sleep kiddo."

Sam watched his father quietly sit down and reach for Dean's shoulder. For a moment he was ten years old again and Dad was here. Everything was going to be okay. He closed his eyes and settled down tucked around his brother's arm again. Dad was here.

SPN

He knew his father was gone again.

He had been there talking to Sam. Sam was asleep, judging from the snores.

The doctor was back judging from the ruckus.

Okay. And now Sam was awake again.

"_Doctor. How is he?" _Sam was worried. That much was obvious.

"_It's hard to tell Sam. He hasn't woken up. That is never a good sign."_

"_And if he doesn't?"_

"_He is in a coma Sam. He will die without life support right now. The long he goes without waking the more likely he is to go brain-dead and never wake up."_

Wow. Dude. I'm right here. Wherever here is in the annoying black fog and buzzing and spinning. Sam… it's spinning again. Make it stop please. Come on Sam, I never ask you for anything. Make the spinning stop. You did it last time I was… uuuh… aware?...

"_But he is not brain-dead yet?"_

"_No."_

"_Yeah. Dude. You hear that Dean. You're not brain-dead. So wake the hell up!"_

Chill, princess. I'm doing my best. I'm not even asleep as far as I am aware. How can I wake up if I don't think I am sleep? Wow now that is a brain twister. That could be made into one of those terrible think outside the box riddles you hate and I am so good at. Hah. Cause I'm better at you, that's why you… oh he is talking. I should listen.

"…_time. His body is healing nicely, he won't be able to breathe on that lug for a while. But the rest of his body is knitting itself back together like it is supposed to. He has been maintaining a constant body temperature since you're arrival and that has helped his immune system. So, we can only wait and keep him warm."_

"_I hate waiting."_

Way to sound like a petulant five-year-old Sammy. Yep. Not at all self-centered that one.

"_I know. That is the hardest part of any recovery. Waiting. I'll be back. You, stay there!"_

Hah. You were right. I think I do like him. I'm guessing I'm in the hospital and that is my doctor and that is who you were talking about? Yeah…. Sweet. Now go grab those paper and let me sign AMA! Really I am getting sick of this spinning black nothingness…. Sam.

SAM!

…you still there?...

"_Hey. The doctor's gone. I REALLY need you to wake up Dean. Please wake up Dean. Just open those pretty green eyes." _Sam stopped talking and the warm pressure returned to his side and hand and arm. The spinning instantly slowed and he could breathe again.

Yeah. Okay. I'm working on it Sammy. I'm trying… but right now. I really need to sleep. Dude, ifff I'm asssleep… how can I goooo back to ssssleeeep….

SPN

Sam was asleep the moment before. Dead asleep! So why was he suddenly awake?

His brown eyes flew open and he searched the room for the disturbance. Finally he honed in on his brother's brilliant green eyes watching him calmly in the dark.

Green eyes.

Open.

"DEAN!" he shouted, dropping his brother's hand and firmly taking hold of his face in gentle hands. The bruises were mostly fading but still he was gentle. "You're awake."

Dean rolled his eyes sluggishly. _No shit Sherlock._

Sam laughed relieved and happy.

Dean's hands weakly floundered for the tube in his mouth. Flopping not unlike fish as he weakly trying to get them to obey his command.

Gently Sam took hold of the thin casted and wrapped wrists and tugged them back against his chest ignoring Dean's halfhearted frown.

"Don't Dean. It's helping you breathe. The doctor said that you probably can't breathe without it."

Dean's eyes went wide with fear.

"No no, not like that. You'll be able to when you recover some more but right now you have to leave it alone."

Dean looked frustrated, then petulant, then angry, then scared, then lost. And Sam almost cried.

He was alive.

Dean was awake.

His survival rate just jumped up above sixty according to the doctor earlier. If his lungs staying clear he was going to recover just fine.

Sam set Dean's casted wrist down on the bed and reached for the call button.

"I'm going to get the doctor in here so he can help you get better. Then, I'm gonna wake Bobby."

Dean frowned and yanked weakly on his hand. Sam let go. "What!"

Dean settled his hand on Sam's lap and attempted to get his fingers to move. When they were kids, Sam had gotten really interested in sign language and would make Dean help him learn the signs out of a little stupid book. They were never very good. But they both were conversational. Sam's eyes went wide as Dean slowly spelled out a word being too weak to move his whole hand.

"Dad?" Sam asked. Dean blinked twice. "yes" - Standard Winchester communication.

"He isn't here."

Dean's fingers moved again.

"You – re – member – he – was – here – early – ier." Sam grabbed Dean's hand to stop him. "You remember him being here?"

Dean blinked twice again.

"You were aware?"

Dean looked really annoyed but blinked again.

"He was here." Sam was cut off as the door swung open and the doctor come it.

"Well, well. This is really great!" He announced coming to Dean side. "It is so nice to see you awake."

"So how are you doing?" the question was rhetorical, but Dean signed anyway. Sam laughed. The doctor looked confused.

"What?"

Sam kindly explained. "We learned sign language – sorta learned – when we were kids. He, uh, just answered your question."

"So you are aware. That's very good." The doctor said to Dean

_At least this one talks to me, not at me through Sam. _Dean thought once again petulantly.

"Um… what did he sign as his answer?" the doctor suddenly asked Sam.

"Oh he said he felt 'Crappy'." Sam chuckled.

The doctor ginned.

"That I believe. Okay I'm going to ask you some questions, Dean. Just to get an idea where you are in your physical recovery okay? You can answer yes by... Yes… oh I see you already know how to do that. Okay, good… or you can sign at your brother and he will tell me. Sound good. Yes. Okay. Tell me if you can feel this…"

It was long and tedious, but in the end the doctor announced that the nerve damage was surprisingly insignificant.

"You probably won't be able to feel the area here where you broke your arm very well for a couple of years, but other than that. You are in the clear."

Dean signed to Sam _HEISANASS_

"Sam? What was that?"

Sam blushed slightly "He said that it was good there wasn't more damage." He explained and shot his brother a withering glare.

_BITCH_

Signing with one partially-functioning-mostly-flopping hand was better than nothing.

Sam laughed softly and basked in the sheer joy of having his brother awake and alive.

"Jerk." He retorted easily.

The doctor smiled through his confusion at the brothers antics, wrote a few things down on the clip board and slipped out of the room.

Sam started at Dean. Dean stared back. Neither one noticed Bobby's presence until he plopped his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"S'good to have you with us mentally, kid." He gruffly quipped.

Dean rolled his eyes and yanked his hand towards the tube again with a frustrated grunt. He hands however barely moved as his eyes slipped shut against his will.

"Let him sleep, Sam." Bobby advised the youngest.

"Yeah. I just worry he will be disoriented when he wakes."

Sam was right. Dean woke up the doctor prodding and instantly started fighting. He fought the doctor, he fought the tube.

"NO, DEAN!" Sam shouted as the room began to flood with nurses. Dean's one half-way decent hand was closed around the tube down his throat and he was pulling at it in terror as he choked and coughed and threw punches for all he was worth. Before Sam could say a word, he was drugged back under and firmly restrained.

"Those – please – those aren't necessary. He – he was scared, and confused. Please. I'll keep it from happening again. Please he hates-"

"Sam." The doctor interrupted him gently. "He tried to extubate himself because he was panicked. That cannot happen and the rules are that he has to be restrained. As soon as he is waking up oriented properly, or as soon as it is removed, we will remove the restraints I promise."

"He hates being trapped. You're going to freak him. Hospitals are a cage to him." Sam pressed his eyes jumping skittishly from his fitful brother back to the doctor.

"We left enough room for him to be able to move his hands, just not all the way to his face. I can't remove them Sam. Not for you."

Sam closed his eyes trying to ignore the stinging behind them. Only after the room was cleared did he finally open them again.

Dean was pale and clammy. The circles under his eyes looked like ink and the bandage was so stark white it hurt.

The restraint around his cast was looser than the other, due to a severe lack of mobility, but where his right hand lay trembling on the covers, the restraint was strong and well fitted.

With a creak the door swung open and heavy footsteps quickly made their way to his side.

"Bobby told me what happened. I'm sorry I wasn't here just now." John said softly from somewhere behind him.

"Wouldn'a made a difference." Sam mumbled. "He didn't even recognize me."

"He is scared and hurting Sam. But he is also Dean. He'll be alright."

"Is that what you think? Huh! Is THAT why you left him. Because he is Dean and he is always going to be just fine. As if he can't die. Just because-"

"Samuel!" John thundered as silently as thunder could without shaking the room and waking the invalid.

Sam blinked but didn't back down far.

"No. You know Dean. You know him as well as I do and he has a remarkable ability to walk away from anything. And I DID NOT leave him without back-up. His BACK-UP left him to go to college and his sucky replacement for a hunt was a MORON!"

"I didn't abandon my brother. I left him safe with you." Sam growled.

"Safe! Safe! Really Sam, are you sick in the head? When have _I _ever been _safe _on a hunt?"

"Oh right, I forgot who I am talking to. You were never there. He kept me safe and cared for while you only showed up to drag him off and get him hurt. You nearly got him killed several times."

"You don't know what you are talking about! I never put Dean in a situation that he did not agree to."

"IT'S DEAN! He would keel over dead before disobey your orders. Daddy's perfect weapon."

"Is that what the matter is here? He obeys me."

"You don't give him – us – anyone a choice in the matter. But at least you're supposed to _try _to make sure they survive. That's I had to get out."

"Yeah. It's not like you didn't make that painfully obviously last time we talked."

"Shut-up! You know nothing about me or why I had to go."

"Nothing? Sam-"

A whimper hardly louder than a falling feather stopped John short. Both men spun toward the bed. Dean was watching them with big, hurt, dark, haunted, green eyes. His freckles were ink. He looked so young, so painfully young it made John's heart ache. A tear traced a path down his face as he watched them. Pure panic and pain written across his colorless features. He hands were straining and shaking against the leather bonds, his heart rate had jumped dangerously high, and his temperature was dropping…

"Dean." Sam gasped. "I'm – I'm so sorr…"

But Dean closed his eyes and turned his head as far away as he could with a tube down his throat.

Neither John nor Sam could think of another thing to say.

So clear was Dean's pain and terror at the restraints and their argument, that at last Sam couldn't watch any longer.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered and fled from the room while John drifted to Dean's side and closed his hand over his son's usually strong, slender wrists. Dean tried to pull away but lacked the strength.

Like a caged bird his fingers fluttered against his father's hand. "What?" John asked lifting his hand and following the movements carefully. Even in the midst of his panic he was attempting to communicate, and hand spelling John could understand.

_SAM, _Dean spelled brokenly.

"I'm sorry." John replied intrinsically understanding the unspoken implication as shreds of fatherhood surfaced.

_YOUDONTTRY._

"I do, Dean. I just forget…"

_PLEASGO_

So John went. He face fallen and defeated – a rare look for the battle hardened warrior.

He found Sam in the café and for a while they sat in silence. "I really messed up, Dad. I told him I wouldn't argue with you… He knows I didn't even try."

"That makes two of us." John replied and drained his coffee. "Go back up there. He shouldn't be alone restrained as he is, he'll freak. I'm going to find Bobby and get a shower. I'll see you later kid."

Sam nodded weakly but didn't look up. Eventually he returned to find his brother shivering and shaking in a fitful sleep. Sam grasped his hand and found himself back at square one.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm really sorry. Please don't die!" he whispered through his bangs, but for once, Dean didn't respond to his puppy eyes.

SPN

"Sam! Hey babe. How is everything?" Jess's voice was calming – soothing.

"Um… better but not great. How are you holding up alone? You made it home safe right?" he sounded nervous and unhappy.

"Yeah." Jess replied clenching down on her fear of Dean's condition. She would have to talk to Bobby later. "When are you coming home?"

"Break is over on Monday. I have three days before I start missing classes. I don't want to leave though. I might come back Monday night? Miss the first day… I can make it up."

"Listen sweetie. Take as much time as you need. You sound exhausted, get some sleep."

"I – uh – I am. I'm lying down. I sorta have his hand trapped, he is not going to be happy."

"Who baby?" Jess asked. _Be still my beating heart._

"My, um – my brother." He whispered.

"Is he okay!" Jess sounded shocked and worried… okay the worried part was completely real.

"I think he will be. He woke this morning." Sam sighed wearily.

"Oh that's great!" Jess almost laughed and cried simultaneously. "Was it bad?"

"Hunting accident in the wood. He got attacked by a bear." Sam replied, his voice hitching.

"So, you said you have his hand trapped?" Jess steered the conversation back somewhere safe…ish.

"Yeah, they have him in restraints since he tried to pull the oxygen tube this morning." Sam explained.

"I bet he won't like that, huh?" Whoops that might be a bit too familiar. "You make him sound like a bit of a freedom kinda guy. Hunting and all." _Yeah, Dean would HATE having his arms pinned even a little._

"Um, whatever that means. I really messed up. I got in a yelling match with my Dad and now De- he, um sorta stopped responding to my voice. The doctor said he'll be fine, but I hate myself right now."

"Oh Baby!" Jess felt her heart plummet, "You sure he is going to be fine."

"I th-think so… The stress of waking up restrained, unable to breath around the machine, and to see me and Dad yelling… his stress level went way up, but they brought it back down in medication, so he should be calm again when he wakes."

Jess didn't know what to say.

"You sound tired, Jess. Have you slept?" Sam sounded worried over her metal status and to be honest, she was worried about it too at the moment. She was also worried for Sam but that seemed to be the norm for the past few months.

"Not as much as I should. I've been worried for you."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll sleep, if you sleep."

"And they say you could be the best lawyer in California… that deal sucked! What have they been teaching you?" Jess teased him.

"Whatever. I'm exhausted and if you get to stay stupid stuff, so do I." He sounded like a petulant five-year-old. It seemed his brother's presence brought that out in him more than usual.

"Sure babe. Keep telling yourself that. One last thing… Um. How is he doing right now? ...your brother." Jess asked trying not to sound like she was prying.

"His heart steadied back to a normal pace and his temperature is coming back up nicely." He replied.

"And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that you are sleeping with him… right." Jess couldn't help the jab.

"Goodnight." Sam retorted.

"Love you be safe." She blurted out.

He chuckled, "Right back atcha Jess." And hung up.

Jess pictured them in her mind again. Sam clinging to Dean's hand as if seeking strength and comfort. Brown beside dark blonde. Flushed face beside cream. Snores to the soft click-whir of the vent. Just as the last time she had seen them.

Suddenly she remembered the other time they had slept side by side: Dark hair pillowed on Dean's shoulder. Congested snores matched to the soft breathing of the elder. Sam clinging feverishly to his brother, seeking strength and comfort.

Some things never changed.

And she never wanted them too.

SPN

Dean talked Sam into leaving Sunday night. That's right. Talked… well, he called it talking, Sam called it croaking. Whatever. Same difference.

He _only_ left after Dad promised to watch after Dean and stay until he could leave. And Dean promised to call Sam if he got hurt. Dean also had to stay in bed and recover, no running around saving the world and all the clueless idiots living in it until he could stand for ten minutes without collapsing.

"Sheesh, Sammy. PMS much! You're acting like a complete girl. Stop bossing us around, you're the baby sister of this family."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Dean, you're hysterical. I can't control my laughter. I'm serious though! NO GETTING YOURSELF KILLED!" Sam wasn't entertained. _You think! _Dean could have won the 'understatement of the year' award with that one.

"Dude. Chill." Cough. Croak. Groan. "I'm fine." Sam glared. "I'm gonna be fine."

Sammy huffed and paced. "I'll stay." He proclaimed at last.

"Hu uh!" Dean snorted settling back and picking absentmindedly at the IV in his hand.

"I'll quit school."

Dean snorted "Don't even start bro."

"I'll come back." Sam argued, "Hey you need back-up and we both know, I am the best."

Deam smiled longingly at that. "You got that right Sammy-"

"Sam."

"SAMMY! (Dude, older brother rights here). You will always be the best. But come on kid, go back to school and normal and that hot chick I know you are hiding in your closet. I promise I will not leave my safety in the hands of another hunter again. Dad and I will be fine." (Okay, that is what it was supposed to sound like, and Sammy certainly understood what he was saying through all the coughing and froggie-talk going on)

Actually he definitely understood and looked none too happy.

But with a little more 'big brother wisdom,' he finally acquiesced. ("Yes, Sammy I know what that word means.")

Sam pulled Dean into a full-on secretly-much-wanted-by-both-individuals hug and – "Ew, Samantha. Really! My chick-flick detector is in the red right now" – Dean hugged him back as hard as he could anyway melting into his brother's chest like a well cut puzzle piece (although he would vehemently deny that).

Sammy cast one last longing look behind him at the ghastly-painted pillar of his childhood and shut the door. He brushed past his father muttering a goodbye of sorts. Gave Bobby a firm handshake and an awkward monologue. And left them behind him as he headed back to school.

Dean met his father's eyes as he opened the door. In typical Den manner, he grinned. "I'm fine Dad. Go get the sonofabitch and teach him table manners." Dean snarked waving weakly at his father with him good arm (good being used generously in this instance).

"Dean. Sam's right. I can't leave you here alone." John replied torn between lust for the hunt and loyalty to his son. Dean's eyes were far too old and perceptive as he gauged his father's face.

"It's okay Dad." He said setting his bandaged right hand on the side of John's chest for half a moment. "Bobby will take care of me." Even as he said the words his eyes flicked over to Bobby. Bobby looked sufficiently annoyed and long-suffering and begrudgingly accepting of the statement so Dean continued.

"I'll sign myself out of here AMA in a day or so, and lay up at Bobby's until I am strong enough to catch up with you. You don't need to be sitting around here with me doing nothing when you could be saving people's lives." His face was strong, set and controlled. Meeting John's tormented eyes, he offered him peace.

John ruffled Dean's hair affectionately, hardly registering how the boy leaned hungrily into the touch in a moment of weakness. "But you still have holes drilled in your skull." He weakly argued the father in him struggling just below the surface. His fingers brushed across the bandage hiding the terrible scars.

Dean screwed up his face in disgust. "Not the worst I've ever signed AMA with. Anyway, they are stitched up now so they are healing." He snapped back.

John's face cleared. If he thought too hard he knew he would have to argue, so instead he took Dean's word and ignored the stark white bandage. "I'll be in touch, kay Ace."

"Sure Dad." Dean replied with a sigh as John left. As the door clicked, his mask dropped as exhaustion finally won out, and Bobby was left to pick up the pieces of Dean's shattered world… _again._

As if his family walking out on him in the same day _once _hadn't been enough, they just had to do it again.

Bobby know Dean well enough to know just how deeply he longed for and how much he wanted his family to need him. He wasn't sure how much more of them leaving the poor kid could take. Everything Dean truly loved in this world could be counted on one hand.

SAMMY! (duh)

His Dad. (though Bobby was sure he absolutely _did not_ deserve his son's unreserved devotion.)

Baby (obviously)

And maybe possibly, if Bobby allowed himself a moment of selfish longing… Bobby too could be counted.

Bobby watched as a tear trickled down the boy's face were he still stared at the closed door.

"Sure Dad." He whispered again and roughly dried his face with his cast glancing warily at the only person left. "m'hungry Bobby." He murmured.

"Yeah. And how is the pain?" Dean would have clammed up at any softness so the question purposefully was posed in as annoyed a tone as he could get away with.

"I can go to a motel if you'd like. You don't need to put me up." Dean whispered picking at imaginary specks of dirt on his immaculately clean bed sheet. Bobby felt his eyes prickle again (damn dust) – so soft it was for the time being, the poor kid just couldn't keep up the bravado at the moment.

"Don't be an ass. You're going home with me." Bobby grunted gently cuffing the boy on the ear.

Dean offered him a half moment of heart felt gratitude before closing his face again. "Kay."

"Dean. The pain?"

"Which pain." Dean snorted. _Family or physical _went unspoken. Dean was just too damn tired to pretend and they both knew it. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are. So I'm guessing they are both ranking pretty high on the one to fifteen Winchester scale, huh."

"Sure." His voice had lost its life in the blink of an eye. "Everything hurts." _Head, body, heart…_

Bobby hit the call button. "Well, don't you worry none, you'll be out of here in no time. You total girl." He added for good measure. Dean blinked at him and offered a twitch of his lip. Bobby would settle for that.

A few hours later, when Dean woke back up (_huh, I don't remember going to sle – oh duh the doctor and that stupid IV_) he asked Bobby for his phone.

One missed call from Jessie.

_Hey Dean. I didn't think you would answer. I guess I hoped you might – _deep breath. – _Sam just got back. He – um – isn't saying much of anything. He keeps telling me he shouldn't have left you. _Dean cracked a smile at that. _I am SO glad to know you are awake. Just seeing you so still and dead looking has been giving me nightmares for days. _"Jess was here?"

He sounded shocked. Bobby simply nodded.

_So. Please give me a call when you feel up to it. I – um I miss talking to you. I just want to make sure you are okay. _Her voice hitched again and Dean could tell she was trying to hold herself together. Between him and Sam she was certainly on the edge of an emotional breakdown. _I'll talk to you soon._

Dean snapped his phone shut and looked at it trembling in his unsteady hand. "Hey Bobby could you dial her back please?" he asked huskily through his painful throat.

"You feeling up to talking?" Bobby asked as he punched in the number.

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. "She came. And she called. I owe her. I won't talk long."

Bobby helped him take a drink (shutting him up for he could open his mouth to complain) and gave him the ringing phone.

"Bobby?" Jess sounded a little unsure when she answered on the third ring.

"Hey sweetheart." He rasped softly in response. Jess laughed out a sob on the other end.

"Dean. Oh Dean!" she gasped. "I was so afraid for you."

"Aw, you know me. I don't die." He replied. Oops wrong thing to say.

"Don't say that!" she choked.

"Sorry. I – yeah that was a poorly timed joke." It was getting harder to talk.

"How are you?"

"Alive."

"You sound half dead." She retorted trying to lighten the conversation for his sake. He smiled in appreciation.

"Well, a vent tube will do that to you." he dropped the phone and burst into a coughing fit.

"Better?" she asked softly when he picked it back up and began breathing harshly into her ear again.

"Not really. Gonna have to-" wheeze "-cut this one short." Wheeze. "Sweetheart. Been-"…"-talking too much."

"Thank you for calling me Dean." Jess replied. He was getting the idea what his slack of response to her calls over the past month had really shaken her.

"I'll call you back." … "When you call." … "Kay?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much. Then I won't worry as much. Rest now you big lob! Goodnight."

"uhumm." And he snapped the phone shut. "Sure. Sure. Night." He whispered chucking the phone weakly at Bobby. It bounced on the foot of his bed but he was too tired to even be embarrassed at the sheer absurdly patheticness of the throw. It was lights out for now. Tomorrow he would be embarrassed.

Tomorrow he was out of here.

SPN

It was weird writing the phone conversation from Dean's side. That is the truth!

And YES! I finished the arc… well sorta did. The next chapter has a little to do with this. You'll see. Back to the fun relationship between Dean and Jess coming up (with a heavy dose of Sam on the side). Actually Sam is taking a much more prominent role in the future I think.

I couldn't resist putting Dean in restraints, or having Sam sleep on them. It was kinda funny.

Please PLEASE tell me if you like this story. Feedback means so much to a writer.

~Kiliana


	16. It's only a flesh wound

Agh, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this posted. But I'm back and I brought a nice long juicy chapter with me for your dining pleasure.

I have a new story posted for those of you who haven't checked out my stories in the past few days. It is a Bobby and the Boys with a nice smattering of John. Written from Dean's perspective. "Bobby's Certifacrit" is the name. ("The Dark Side" is another if you haven't checked it out. A tag to the episode DSOTM. A much of hurt/angst!Dean if you're into that. Caring/worried!Sam. probably one of the darkest emotional fics I've written yet.)

ANYWAY!

Thanks for sticking with me in this story. And thanks for the reviews.

I wrapped up the 'Smoke on the Water' arc and this is officially the end of those strings.

Enjoy.

~Kiliana

* * *

><p>Sam was pacing a hole into the floor.<p>

"Just call him already and see how he is doing." Jess sighed in frustration. Sam glanced at the phone he had in a chokehold and went back to pacing.

"What if he doesn't answer?" he sounded like a little five-year-old afraid his brother won't open the door.

"What if? You adorable frustrating dweeb! You'll never know unless you try. And I think he will. After all, you went to stay with him." She was really tired of his whining.

"You don't know Dean. He might not." He retorted. Jess felt her neck prickle. _Yes I do you ass! How dare you say that! I might know him better than you at this very moment. No, breathe, calm down girl no need to get angry at your clueless over-grown two-year-old._

"Sam. Call him or I won't make you dinner." She said harsher then she originally intended. It came out more of a threat than a joke. Sam took a half step backwards.

"Are you blackmailing me into calling my brother?" he was incredulous.

"Yes." Jess retorted smugly. So, maybe it had been more of a threat than she had meant. But hey – if that is what it takes to get them to talk. "Now call him."

So Sam called.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Beep. "Hey this is–"

Sam shut the phone. "He – he didn't answer." He mumbled unhappily.

"Did you leave a message?" _come on idiot. Give him a chance. _It took all of her strength not to roll her eyes at him. Instead she pasted on a doting, sympathetic look and rubbed his arm with her hand. The lengths to which she went when taking care of this wacky family called Winchester… unbelievable. She really _was _turning into Dean, the manipulative sob.

"No…"

"So…" Yep if threatening the lack of dinner (which wasn't an overly high priority of his anyway) didn't work. Pleading and being supportive would (She was pretty sure she learned that from Dean somewhere in their zany relationship.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

"_Sammy_." Dean croaked unexpectedly on the other end.

"Dean!" Sam slumped in relief and shakily laughed. "I – I thought you weren't gonna answer."

"Hmmmm… …so did I." Dean replied after a moment. "Wasn't gonna. Throat don't feel so hot."

Sam took a long shaky breath. "How and where are you?" he blurted out.

Dean chuckled rustily, "I'm at Bobby's.

"Since when!" Sam snapped at Dean's obvious avoidance of the answer.

"Come on Sam." Dean huffed annoyed.

"No. Dean how long have you been at Bobby's? Don't lie to me." Sam persisted. Looking at him now, Jess wouldn't have believed he had been too nervous to call two minutes before if she hadn't been there in the front row seat. A smile twitched at her lips as Sam tried to metaphorically corner his brother.

"Been her since I was released." Dean replied.

"Released or signed AMA? And you still haven't told me how long." The edge dropped out of Sam's voice instantly as he employed his most effective blackmail card. "Please, Dean last time I saw you, you were half dead."

Dean groaned in defeat. Of course Sammy would guilt trip his older brother. How many times had they don't this dance over their lives? Thousands. How many times had Dean caved? …thousands.

"M'fine S'my." He croaked.

"Dean." All it took was that one word.

"r'noying, ya know." He grumbled. "'v'bin here four days. Signed AMA day after you left."

Sam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why couldn't Dean be reasonable? "Why! Hospitals aren't trying to kill you. You could stay and get better."

"Naw. Hate that place." Dean retorted carefully casual. "No hot nurses. Third sponge bath from a Sumo Wrestler and I was out of-"

"Where is dad?" it came out a whisper.

"Sam." That was definitely a warning.

"Damnit! He can't stick around for a week? He gonna die of boredom taking care of his own SON!" the blaze of anger was painfully familiar. How many times had Dad left Dean in his own blood the second Dean could draw enough breath to mumble out his good health? Sam could remember each one with horrifying clarity. Dean, curled in agony, whispering to their father that he was gonna be fine. John could go. And John left – beat a hasty retreat - left Dean to cripple through the next few weeks with a little brother's clumsy help.

Sam roughly kicked his shoe across the floor, absurdly pleased when is smacked into the wall. He stomped into the bedroom and slammed the door so Jess resorted to listening through the crack.

"Sam!" Dean snapped back through his voice broke painfully as he did it. He dropped it huskily to a less painful octave. "He promised you to stay until I was out. I'm out. And he isn't far. He's sticking close, but you know dad. He hates not being able to hunt the fuglies and stop them from hurting people."

"Just stop." Sam sighed realizing somehow through the haze of anger that Dean was probably in terrible pain and did not need Sam yelling about Dad. "Please. I don't want to argue. Just – just how are you, really?"

"M'fine."

"Lier!" Sam was firm.

"Fine. I have three partially healed crushed ribs and a half healed hole through my lungs. I have three partially healed fractures in my left leg, a half healed crack in my left wrist, a bruised side that hurts to touch, a raw skinned right wrist, a cracked orbit and cheek bone on the left side of my face, and three holes drilled through my skull. I can't walk on my own and I get dizzy whenever I try to stand. I'm peachy!"

Well, no he wasn't, but he was certainly pissed at the situation. Dean was almost certainly imprisoned on the couch or in bed, defending on his stubborn streak verses Bobby's, and was probably wilder then a caged beast.

Sam scrubbed at his face and sat down. "Why aren't you in the hospital?"

"If I take it easy and make sure to keep my bandages clean I'll be fine, mother hen."

"Ten days ago you had a fifteen percent chance of survival." Sam replied feeling nauseous at the thought. Damn, his brother had almost died _again _and he would have been too late. "Dude. You sound like a frog with laryngitis. Plus, you have holes in your head."

"So do you, Jill!" Dean retorted.

"Huh? Why am I Jill?" He wasn't even going to touch the holes in his head jab.

"Cause I'm the one that broke my crown, genius." Dean retorted as huskily as before.

"Naw, You're not Jack. You're Jeremiah." Sam shot back easily.

"I don't remember a Jeremiah rolling down any hills or falling off ledges." _Confused the big brother. Score!_

"No, but 'Jeremiah was a bull frog! Duhn-duhn, duhn. He was a good friend of mine'." Sam sung out badly off key and Dean broke into choked painful chuckles.

"Dude. Ow! Don't make me laugh." He gasped wheezing in sharp gulps of air.

Sam laughed back. _Heck yeah! Points for the geek bother with no taste in music._

"Dude. You just totally sang a hippy song." Dean certainly sounded less crazed.

"Yeah. I know." Sam replied softly. "Promise me you will go back to the hospital if you get sick. Please. I don't want you to die."

"Kay, Princess, get your panties out of a twist. I'll go if I get worse then I currently am." Aaaaand, big brother was back in full swing and 'perfectly fine' again.

"You know, with everything you've been through. I'm surprised you don't look like a patchwork quilt." Sam remarked dryly.

"If you EVER call me Frankenstein, I will waste you!" Empty threat sure, but Sam got the idea.

"Okay, how about Frankenstine! Lady version. Seems to fit better."

"Hardy. Ha. Ha." Dean drew in a ragged breath. "It's getting hard to breath, kid."

"Sorry. Sorry. I made you talk too long."

"I's'kay" Dean replied. "I miss snarking at my baby brother."

Sam felt his eyes burn again. "Yeah. I miss you too."

"Woah! I never said I miss you. Sheesh. What a girl Samantha."

But Sam just smiled. That was definitely Dean language for _I love you, I miss you, stay safe…_

"Whatever, Dean. Don't even think about saying another word all evening. Make Bobby play charades, you need to stop talking, sounds like you gargled thumb tacks."

"um hum. Thanks, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Whatever. Night."

"You too."

And the line went dead. Sam stared at the phone for a long time before heading back out to where Jess was baking cookies. Yeah, she had been cooking the whole time. The WHOLE time. Nope no listening in, no laughing and silently crying…

"So. How is everything?" she asked (Totally not asking for her own sake. All for Sam's sake ONLY)

"I don't know. Frustrating stubborn ass. He would say he was fine even with a leg cut off!" Sam grumbled. "Remember that scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

"Which one?" Jess remembered far too many scenes from that movie…

"The bridge scene where the knight gets all his limbs cut off and sits there spouting 'it's just a flesh wound." Jess nodded and chuckled softly. She could tell where this was going.

"Yeah, you got it. That's Dean." Even Sam had to smile at the ridiculous comparison. "But, I called, so is dinner ready?"

"Not yet, but it will be soon."

"Okay. I need to study for a quiz tomorrow. Call me when we're ready to eat."

"Okay. No problem."

They were talking! Oh thank you God for that massive blessing. They were talking again. Jess did a quick happy dance around the kitchen laughing to herself until Sam poked his head in with a quizzical expression. "What_ are _you doing?"

"Um… nothing at all. Letting off energy. You know… go back and study!" she replied goofily.

He cocked his eyebrow and shook his head. "Weird."

Jess pumped her fist the moment he turned away. "One for Jess. Zip for da boys!" she whispered.

SPN

The next few weeks flew by like a dream. School was a complete nightmare. Jess honestly couldn't remember the last time she had had so many papers back to back.

_Dang. I really dropped the ball on planning my school schedule if this is the way it's gonna be this semester – AWOL sounds pretty good to me._

She glanced around the study hall absently, noting the people and their various activities before flipping her phone open.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times and – Beep. "_Hey this is Dean." _Drawled his _incredibly_ smooth voice._ "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want."_

_You know. _She thought to herself. _It should be illegal for people to be able to talk like that. Seriously. Take pity on the female popula- _BEEP.

"Oh hey Dean. Um. Wow I completely forgot what I was going to say. I got distracted by your answering machine. You know given how much I was calling it I should be used to it, but, hey, at least Bobby picks up. Speaking of which. If I get a call from him and find out you're in a hospital or dead, I'm going to kick your ass. If you're dead, I'm going to wake you up first and _then _kick it. Okay? So…don't be dead. But yeah. I'm studying – yeah I laughed too when I said that the first time – I have written at least four complete papers in two weeks and I have one more to write, its driving me crazy – hence the call to you. The best remedy for crazy is to call _more _crazy and have a chat. So, give me a call and save me from the pits of my despair! AAGH kind hero speed quickly to this fair damsel's aid; I fear my resilience is fast draining away. Not much longer canst I hold on. The night is full of terrors and at the rising of the sun the crows gather for the feast… I am SO bored. Call me... before I fill your inbox with this very long – long – long – boring – message of despair." Jess snapped the phone shut and dropped it on her book.

Leaning back she closed her eyes. There was no way she was writing or reading another word for the next hour.

Thirty minutes later, her phone rang.

"Dean?"

"Eeeelo. Ees dis dah laydee m_ooooo_re?"

ummm... "Yeah…"

"Aaaah" snort-cough "goooot. Mee mayster" slurpy-snort-smack "dah lurd weechister sayed yous gonna hava seeve youseeelf" cough-annoyed-huff "Deem crows ees mighty fine creeters. Eef dey're hunree day're gonna hava eeet somptin. Hopa yuoo survif" wet-snuffle.

The line went dead leaving her slack jawed in shock.

_My master the lord Winchester. _Okay. She got that much. _Said you is going to haft to… save yourself. _Hah the jerk. Save herself her foot. She was supposed to be a princess. _Them crows is mighty fine creatures. If they're hungry they are going to have to eat something. _What…? _Hope you survif…_ Oh survive. That little… okay big but still… "the nerve of him!"

She quickly dialed back.

"Listen up Kid!" she snapped the moment the phone connected. "Didn't you Pap never learn you no manners!"

"shing s_eee_rah chang-go-pleek. No tingo nah ha ting yang." She was answered in… Chinese? Vietnamese? Complete gibberish… the later was probably the most likely. After a split second of surprise she adapted.

"I'm sorry, didn I ring da nail saloon?" She snarked in the same growly redneck voice.

Dean promptly spouted off a long string of very oriental sounds and hung up.

Jess chuckled. If they were going to play this game she needed to come up with a better accent. Redneck and princess apparently weren't cutting it with his Hobo and Chinese lady acts.

This time he picked up the phone second ring and it sounded like he was…sucking his teeth clean?...

"Low!" he basically shouted into the phone.

"Hello sir…" she drawled in the most disinterested, bored sounding east coast accent she could achieve. "My name's Wolfshlegestighner Valfstedler and I'm calling for Morton Salt Co."

"Huh! SPEAK UP!" he bawled into the phone.

"MORTON SALT!" she howled back. Oh yeah, she was turning heads. "All you need to do is answer one easy question and you can be the winner of a year's supply of salt."

"Huh? SALT?" He hollered.

"YES SALT!" she returned. The students in the room were _all _staring now.

"I don't know, I USE A _TON _OF SALT!" She had to pull the phone away he was yelling so loudly directly into the mouth piece.

"If you can finish this line."

"WHAT FISH ON WHAT LINE?" he yelled excitedly.

"NO FISH SIR. FINISH the SAYING. When it RAINS it Whats?"

"It WHATS? Rain doesn't 'what' you crazy person!" he bellowed at her.

"FINISH THE SAYING. When it RAINS it…"

"DROWNS ALL THE FROGS!" he yelled. "YOU SHOULD'A SEEN MY POORCH LAST STORM. We're talking THOUSANDS DEAD."

"That's nice. But finish the SAYING! When it RAINS it…"

"RUINS THE SALT." He shot back.

"NO."

"OH THAT'S A SHAME. I guess I don't get all that…that… (HONEY)" he bellowed pulling the phone away from his ear and presumably yelling at an imaginary person. "(What is the white stuff you put on my mash when I take out my dentures? Oh thanks) SALT!" he bawled in her ear.

She was pinching her nose to keep from laughing. The image of Dean in dentures… priceless.

"HAVE. A. GOOD. DAY!" she yelled at the phone.

"HUH?" he shouted back…and the line went dead.

Jess glanced sheepishly around the room at all the staring students.

"Sorry. That's my cousin. He is in the air force and… never mind. We'll keep it down." She apologized. Someone laughed. Someone snorted. And everyone went back to their work.

Dean answered the first ring.

"Dean." Jess giggled before he got a word in edgewise. "I just howled my head off in the study hall and everyone was staring."

Silence.

"Dean." She hissed.

"Brrrreep" he chirped like a cricket on the other side. "Brrrrrreep brrrrrrreep brrrrrrrreeep."

"Oh. Listen to the crickets. My, I guess he must have fallen asleep." Jess cooed in her most patronizing voice. Somebody was ex_tremely_ bored and probably long overdue for a nap...

"Whoooo Whooooo are Yoooooou talking Toooooo." He hooted.

"You are SO _weird_ Dean." She laughed softly trying to keep it quiet after the last episode. The brothers were SO different sometimes. Dean was just weird!

She could _hear _him smile over the phone. "Yeah. Takes one to know one." He retorted in his rougher than usual heart-breaker drawl. "So dying over papers. What are you writing about?"

She told him the subject matter and purpose of the paper. "I hate it, Dean. I don't even know where I _stand _on the issue and it doesn't have anything to _do _with the class and I only _have _to do it because if I don't, I lose a letter grade for 'failure to submit assignment' when the assignment is a waste of time." She ranted.

"Okay. Take a deep breath and tell me what you _do _know."

Jess took the breath and then proceeded to talk Dean's ear off for half-an-hour about the subject and the data, what the teacher kept saying, and what she thought of it.

Dean chuckled when she finally ran out of words.

"Write down exactly what you just told me and you have a smashing paper. Oh and I'll email my notes to you. I got your thesis statement here, and five topics with six sub-topics each. Plus a bunch of info I snagged along the way. Jessicamoore Stanford dot edu. Right?"

"You what?" Jess stammered flabbergasted.

"Really. It's not that big of a deal. I used to sit Sam down when he was stumped and do the same for him." He replied nonchalantly.

"You just took notes on my rant?" Jess asked still hung up on her shock.

"Would you rather I delete them?"

"NO!" okay, that was rather loud… sorry again guys. "No, just. You didn't have to do that."

Dean coughed uncomfortably and "ofcourseIdoformylittlesister" he blurted softly. It took her a moment to process that.

"Dean you are the absolute best! Thank you so much."

She could hear him shift uncomfortably on the other end. "Um…well…get your ass in gear and start writing, woman!"

"Hey, before you go. How is your recovery? Your lungs and throat sound fine."

"I'm fine."

"Dean…"

"I've been up and around. My legs splinted but I can put weight on it. My wrist is stiff but mobile. My chest is mostly fine and my head is healing. Tada."

"Good. Thanks for all this. I feel really refreshed after yelled at some random old guy."

"Oh that was Bobby."

"IT WAS NOT!?" she gasp-shouted.

"Nah, but that would have been awesome!"

Jess would rather not even think about that can of worms.

"I got the email. Thanks…wow…that is really a lot of information."

"Hey. Nothing there that didn't come out of your own mouth, sweetheart."

"Thanks Dean. You really are the best."

"Better than Sam?"

"Must you depreciate the compliment?"

"_O_kay." He said quickly, emphasizing the O and drawling out the kay. "You just switched into English or something-r-other paper mode. Have fun writing while I torment Bobby into bringing me food."

Jess smiled fondly at that image. "Bye Dean."

"Yup." He popped the P and killed the line.

Only _after _he hung up did she remember all the questions she wanted to ask him about his Dad and Bobby and details about his recovery _other _than what he had told her. _Oh sigh. Just another day in the life of 'you know the bloody Winchesters, get used to never getting the information you want and only EVER getting headaches and heartaches and DON'T LOOK AT ME YOU IDIOT, you didn't HAVE to go shoving your nose in their business.'_

Jess opened a word document and copied over Dean's email and set to work. _No wonder Sam always got A's, Dean is a master at note taking and putting stuff in the right categories. If Dean did this for Sam for most of his papers on high school… wow. Just wow._

Jess set aside the phone and got to work.

The paper was submitted and came back with an A+.

Sam complimented her on the succinctness of her argument and the arranging of the information. It was a solid argument she had created. Yeah, he was a lawyer, and she had a feeling he learned how to be one from Dean and high school papers.

Dean sent her an email a few days after their conversation with a picture of a porch covered in dead frogs. It had a title. "Bobby's porch a week ago after it rained…that old man should won the salt."

Jess laughed.

Two days later she got a box in the mail. It wasn't big, hardly bigger than a…child's tiara. She just about keeled over laughing in front of a very puzzled Sam.

"What?" he asked in his typical 'I've-been-left-out-of-the-joke-and-I-don't-like-it-because-deep-down-I'm-still-four-years-old' whine.

"It's – It's a – a crown!" She managed at last.

"I see that." He retorted.

"Ohhhh. I'm going to kill someone." She chuckled and put it on. "How do I look baby? Like a damsel in distress in need of a white knight?"

"Ummm, that depends on the white knight is." He replied obviously concerned about the identity of the sender. _Dream on baby, this sweetheart has her own little secrets!_

"Maybe you can be my white knight, the other left me to the crows." She giggled.

"There is another?" he asked alarmed.

"No silly. It's an inside joke from an old friend." She kissed his cute confused dimples. "Don't worry baby, you're the only one for me."

That seemed to satisfy the boy. "Whatever." He said. He kissed her as he left for class.

Duh she would get the machine. "Why you ridiculous lout, Sir Winchester! A crown? All this even after your servant left me for the crows? I feel affronted!" she snapped the phone shut and went about her day.

Two hours later.

"Hello Dean." She crooned.

"Soooo… you like it?" he chuckled.

"I don't even believe you right now." She said wishing she could punch him in the shoulder for good measure. "And I am punching the couch as a substitute for your face." She added.

"Ouch. That's harsh."

"Sam was completely miffed. Got his lost puppy face on and everything at being left out of the joke." She giggled.

"hm. Spoiled brat. But that one's on me. Anyway, you should have seen the look the lady at Walmart gave me when I bought it."

"You bought my crown at _Walmart_!" she exclaimed in mock disgust.

"Yeeeeeah… Does that deserve capital punishment?"

"Uh, _yeah! _Off with the lazy lob's head." She shot back.

"Hate to break it to you genius, I'm on the phone…"

"So no killing you in person? Dang."

"'fraid not."

"Well I'll settle for a long distance murder."

"AAAGH! HELP I'm DYING!" he bellowed. Jess laughed at his groans and murmurs of abject misery. "Shit!" he said out of the blue breaking off his little enactment. "No, Bobby. I'm fine – Really! I'm fi- whatever – Look, see. No blood, no dying, I'm on the phone! – Yes, it's Jessie. Duh, who else would I be fake dying at the top of my lungs for – oh, just leave already you old coot! Ouch! – no I'm not sorry – Hi again Jess, that went well." He sounded like he was about to burst out laughing. She was already rolling.

"Bobby thought you were for real?" she exclaimed in delight.

"Yeah, he's going deaf, couldn't hear the sarcasm –Bobby, this isn't your conversation, big ears!"

"So, not deaf?"

"No apparently not deaf, just eavesdropping." He chuckled. "I take back the deaf statement, he's like Dumbo!"

"Oh, ginormous ears."

"Hey!" Dean suddenly sounded very far away. "Give that back."

"Look you idjit." Bobby's gruff voice greeted her in the "kindest" manner possible. "You and me need to have a talk about letting that ruffian run his mouth. Denis is bad enough by himself thank you!"

"Oh but Bobby, What's the fun in that? Your life would be so boring." She crooned in delight at the situation.

"Boring's an under'preciated state I could use more of. Try keepin' this bloody aweful patient in one place fer a day, it's been two weeks. He's crawling the curtains and going stark raving mad."

"_No I'm not. They're too moth eaten to hold my weight." _Dean yelled from the couch supposedly. She almost laughed when he didn't pretest the 'going mad' part.

"I can only imagine! I feel your pain Bobby."

"Uh huh. You can feel it alright. Idjits! You're all the same. Unbelievable." He huffed.

"Thank you!" Dean snorted once again in procession of the phone. "He is using my splinted leg against me! It's about to magically transform into a club so I can use it right back!" he spat in fake anger presumably at the retreating Bobby's back. She could imagine him grumbling 'rambunctious good-for-nothing Idjits!' as he walked away leaving Dean to his antsing.

"I think he likes you! People whine and fuss when they don't want to own up to being fond of someone."

"You think! Ha, more like he wishes I was stuffed and mounted on the wall right about now."

"So you've been laid up for two weeks. How has that been?"

"I HATE it! You can only do so many one armed push-ups on a skinned wrist and weak lungs. I can't _stand _it! Agh I'm going slowly crazy. You wanna know why people go to nut houses?"

"Um, because they are crazy?"

"Because they get stuck in one place and go _insane_. Jessie, you will visit me in the metal institution, right?"

"Nope. Crazies go there and I'm not crazy."

"Sweetheart, you _are _dating my little brother." He helpfully pointed out.

"Oh snap! Touché, you're right. We should all three of us share a padded cell."

"Oh that sounds great. We can have little tea parties in our straightjackets." He dead-panned.

"And wear plastic tiaras from Walmart." she added brightly.

"Nah, just for you and Sammy. Only princesses get the tiaras."

"I love how you make fun of him even when he isn't around to be annoyed." She giggled.

He undoubtedly was rolling his eyes, "It's a big brother thing."

"I think I just _might _have figured that out."

"Come as part of the packaged deal." He retorted.

"I like the deal! A boyfriend and big brother rolled into one. I'll take that any day."

"Hum, even though it comes with drama and death-bed situations on the side? Not to mention all the secrets and the lying by everyone involve included the girl-friend and her hush-hush relationship with the brother."

"Oh, if it didn't it would be boring." She drawled. "I can handle a little drama."

"You have _no _idea what kind of drama follows my family around, sweetheart. You've only touched the tip of the iceberg." He replied.

"Hey, give me a little credit here. I spent two hours at lunch with your father."

"Wow! Really? You met Dad? So, then you've seen about half the iceberg."

"Yeah, I met him in the hospital. Walked into him, literally. He scared the crap out of me at first."

Dean snorted, she thought maybe she could hear a hint of anger and longing in that snort, but it was gone too fast for her to tell. "He does that." He replied sarcastically. "Just don't tell that to Sam."

"Dean. Sam doesn't know I _know you_! Why would I _ever _tell him that I knew your father?" she exclaimed.

"True. But you are blonde, what can I say."

"Oh, so we're starting into blonde bashing jokes now, are we?"

"You betcha, sweetheart!" he chuckled but suddenly changed the subject along with his easy casual tone. "Hey Jessie, how is Sammy doing? He called that one day. I know he was really worried – he couldn't sit still kind of worried. How is he?"

"Well, he is worried. He called you the knight from the bridge in 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

Dean laughed. "Oh yes, I use to quote that sometimes, before he left. 'It's just a flesh wound!'" he said in a perfect accent. "Is he sleeping and eating?"

"Yes to both. Not sleeping as well as he should though. Keeps waking up." For a moment she fell silent but he could tell she wasn't finished. "I want him to call you."

"Oh Jessie, that can't happen. You have to understand he can't balance both of these worlds."

"Why! Everyone else balances college and family just fine!" she snapped.

"Jessie." He entreated her to listen. "Please. We are _not _the Walton's. When Sam left, he had to cut all ties, if he didn't, he would never be able to leave."

"I don't understand! You are not making sense!"

"Believe me Jessica. You won't ever understand. I got to go. Lunch is ready."

"Dean. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have go there, don't hang up mad at me."

Dean chuckled. "I'm not mad at you. Bye sweetheart, before Bobby wrings my neck."

Jess still figured the lunch thing was a fake. He always clammed up when she asked about his family life. "Bye Dean, take care of yourself so you get better before out tea party."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean shorted back and clicked his phone shut.

Jess shook her head and looked down at the phone. _Family drama no kidding. _

Talking to Dean was like cornering a wild animal, he was fine until you pushed too close, and then he sprang like his life depended on it.

When Sam got home she was singing 'Sir. Robin' at the top of her lungs. He merely shook his head and vanished into his study hole. Weird girl-friends.

* * *

><p>So what did you think? I kept you all waiting for so long I left this all as one chapter for you enjoyment.<p>

Review my friends and let me know what you thought. And I am looking for prompts either for this or for any other story. Wanna see something else between Jess and Dean? Shoot it my way.

Thanks, lovies

~Kiliana


End file.
